


Remembered by a Friend

by WantonWhale



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars: Rebels, Star Wars: Thrawn Series - Timothy Zahn (2017)
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Dissociation, Eli data-doin what a mathboi data-do, Get Eli a Tissue, I can't afford therapy so I wrote this instead, Lovers to Strangers to Friends to Lovers, M/M, Memory Loss, More angst, Mutual Pining, My Heart will Go On will start playing at some point, Ozyly-esehemWHOA, PTSD, Sexual Content, Slow Burn, Some Fluff, Strangers to Friends to Lovers, That's Not How The Force Works, Thrass-banter because i can't help myself, Traumatic Brain Injury, You'll know when, but we all know it's anal, fic with art, questions of identity, related grief, somewhat vague evocative smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-26
Updated: 2020-03-12
Packaged: 2021-02-28 05:20:49
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 13
Words: 36,169
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22868530
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WantonWhale/pseuds/WantonWhale
Summary: “For if one is remembered by a friend, one is never truly gone.” - Timothy Zahn, Thrawn.A year after the Battle for Lothal, the Chiss Ascendancy locates Grand Admiral Thrawn only to find he does not remember anything about the Empire or his mission… let alone his human lover. Desperate to learn what Thrawn knows about Imperial threats to Chiss security, The CDF tasks Eli with re-teaching Thrawn Basic—a language he no longer understands but has somehow been dreaming in nonetheless—to determine if they are only dreams or something more.As Thrawn struggles to piece together his missing life, and Eli grieves for the loss of the man in front of him, they both must come to terms with what Thrawn’s loss of memory means for his identity and their relationship.
Relationships: Thrawn | Mitth'raw'nuruodo/Eli Vanto
Comments: 237
Kudos: 204





	1. Fugue

**Author's Note:**

> Please heed the tags: this ride will get bumpy.

_“What can I do to drive away  
Remembrance from my eyes? for they have seen,  
Aye, an hour ago, my brilliant Queen!  
Touch has a memory. O say, love, say,  
What can I do to kill it and be free  
In my old liberty?”_

John Keats

**Prologue: Fugue**

_Captain Eli'van'to… we’ve received a distress beacon in the quadrant you asked us to check…_

Eli stood waiting at the loading ramp as the shuttle made its way through Csilla’s snowy atmosphere, running through the transmission he’d received over and over in his head.

_… it was an obsolete channel, one we hadn’t used in almost fifteen years…_

Admiral Ar’alani cast him a searching look, but Eli ignored her, agitatedly biting at his thumb as the ship began to slow in its descent.

_… we’d had orders to alert you immediately of any news, and…_

The pair of CDF officers swayed slightly on their feet as the shuttle landed, its struts sinking deep into the snow.

… _we’ve found the Chimaera, Captain…_

Eli did not wait for the ramp to lower completely before moving forward.

… _and only one survivor… it’s Admiral Thrawn…_

Admiral Ar’alani did not comment on the breach of protocol—captains did not descend from a ship before admirals. But just this once, she allowed it to pass without comment.

_… but you should know, sir…_

Eli ignored the strong burst of freezing cold air that swept across his face, stinging his eyes and tightening his nostrils as he jogged forward along the stone walkway toward the imposing manor carved out of the cliffside, the majority of the structure concealed deep within the black rock.

_… he had some minor injuries, some malnutrition—nothing too dire, he’s already been sent home with his brother… but he’s…_

A pair of tall burgundy-clad women holding long, imposing electro-pikes swept aside, allowing Eli and Ar’alani entrance into the ancestral home of Mitth.

_…confused..._

Eli brushed the snow from his shaggy brown hair as he followed a pair of gray-uniformed servants out of the stone vestibule, down a burgundy-walled hall, and into an ornate parlor, warmed by four separate fireplaces, one at each corner. Seated on a couch, being stared at by Thrass, four Admirals, and two doctors was a completely unaffected-looking Thrawn.

_Please come at once, Captain._

He couldn’t believe it. After nearly a year of sleepless nights spent in quiet, tear-filled rage and grief, a year of searching, of following the faintest leads, the dimmest of traces… here he was. Found on a beach planet: not too far from Lysatra, in fact. Just outside the edge Unknown Space… exactly where he’d told the patrol ship to look.

His tumbling thoughts fell away when Thrawn looked at him.

Eli took a hesitant step forward. The Chiss looked much the same as the last time Eli had seen him, but with the addition of a faint, blue scar along one side of his face, following the line of his jaw. He seemed tired, and he certainly looked thinner: more wiry. But that was not what was most troubling. What was most troubling was the way the Chiss was looking at Eli…

With nothing but a mild—even polite—curiosity…

Not happiness….

Not even recognition…

… and certainly not _love_.

“Mitth’raw’nuruodo?” Thrass asked, turning away from Eli to face his younger brother. “Do you recognize this human?”

Thrawn held Eli’s gaze for a few moments, then shook his head.

Eli didn’t understand how he was still alive. He could have sworn his heart had stopped beating.

“Greetings, Admiral Ar’alani,” Thrawn said, turning to face the woman beside Eli. His voice was somewhat hoarse—lack of use, perhaps.

The woman bowed her head. “Mitth'raw'nuruodo. It is good to see you back safe, after all these years.”

“Thank you. It is good to be back,” he said, his voice completely flat of all emotion. 

One of the doctors leaned toward Thrass, whispering something in his ear. He nodded, and the doctor turned to Eli. “Captain? Could you perhaps ask him a question in your language?”

Eli stared at the woman for a few moments, then nodded weakly, turning back to Thrawn. “Sir?” he asked in Basic, the language feeling strange on his tongue. “Do you remember _anything_? About me? Or the Empire? The _Chimaera_?”

Thrawn just gave him a blank look. Turning to his brother, he asked, “What is that, Galactic Basic?”

“Yes,” his brother said. “You spoke it once. This human, Eli'van'to, taught it to you many years ago.”

Thrawn nodded with a sort of stoic acceptance, as if this was far from the first new piece of information about himself he’d received that day.

“So it’s true?” Ar’alani asked. “You remember nothing before you were made a captain in the CDF? Nothing of the pirates of Dertoa? The _Steadfast_ and the Grysk? The Empire?”

Thrawn shook his head. “I remember serving with you as a Commander aboard the _Armistice…_ being sent to Mokivj _…_ but those other things mean nothing to me.”

Eli’s ears began to ring with a crushing silence. He could see Thrawn and Ar’alani’s mouths continue to move but could not hear them. He turned, walking from the parlor as if in a dream. Once he was past the door he picked up his pace. By the time he reached the main hall, he was at a full run. He shoved through the main doors, ignoring the slightly scandalized looks of the guards as he ran at full-pelt through the snow, stumbling occasionally and not looking where he was going but trying to get as far away from that room—and those indifferent red eyes—as soon as possible.

Eli's breath began screaming in his chest from cold and exertion and he collapsed onto his knees in the snow. He closed his eyes, feeling snowflakes collect on his cheeks and lashes. His head fell forward against his chest and he clenched his gloved hands, willing himself to stop shaking.

A single, choked sob escaped his throat and he forced his eyes open, looking up at the indigo, star-strewn sky.

Eli threw back his head and screamed, his voice tearing into the cold, indifferent night.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am writing this as a person who has experienced memory loss as a result of brain injury and PTSD. Which isn’t to say that gives me ownership over those issues, just to say that if you also struggle with these things, I am too, and "hi!" I started writing this fic as a way of sort-of-but-not-really processing these issues, and thought someone else might appreciate it too. I’ve gotten a lot out of writing it and hope you get something out of reading it.  
> Take care of yourselves out there.


	2. "Oblivious host"

Eli had been grounded indefinitely by Admiral Ar’alani. She’d even had _The Fool’s Hope_ sent from the _Steadfast_ to the Mitth estate hangar bay.

It was the ship he and Thrawn had commandeered from pirates a few years ago, and refitted for their purposes. It was known in the Empire as the ship that had tragically and inexplicably exploded in the Outer Rim with the Lieutenant Commander onboard.

Eli laid back in his bunk, staring at the ceiling.

He hadn’t done much else for the last two weeks. He’d learned from an incredibly brief and terse transmission from Ar’alani that the Council of Admirals had all convened at the Mitth estate to discuss Thrawn’s situation. The sentence of exile was still in effect, and the question became what to do with the Chiss now that he was here.

If there were updates on Thrawn’s status, Eli had certainly not been informed. Apparently, once the doctors had established that Thrawn really could not remember his time in the Empire or the year leading up to it, they hadn’t needed Eli for anything else. He was not allowed to see Thrawn, and a small part of him—a part he resented very much—didn’t know if he wanted to.

He had been preparing himself for months to find Thrawn’s body.

But nothing could have prepared him for this.

The pneumatic hiss of the door and the groan of the descending loading ramp drew him from his thoughts. The only people apart from himself that knew the key-code to the _Fool’s Hope_ were himself, Thrawn, and Admiral Ar’alani.

Eli scrambled from his bunk, slipped into his black uniform jacket and futilely attempted to straighten his hair as he stepped into the mainhold. Admiral Ar’alani was standing in front of the open hatch, her arms folded across her chest with the faintest hint of a scowl on her face.

Eli hadn’t realized he’d allowed himself to hope that Thrawn’s memories had returned—thus enabling him to enter the ship’s security code—until he felt his stomach sink: just another of the hundred little griefs that had been dogging him since Thrawn’s return.

As if hearing his thoughts, the Admiral said, “Expecting someone else?”

“No, ma’am,” he said, his voice permanently hoarse these days.

“The Admirals have reached a decision,” she said without preamble. Such was her way. “They have determined that as Mitth’raw’nuruodo does not _remember_ the events leading up to or following his exile, he is no longer the same _person_ who received the sentence of exile in the first place. Not legally. Therefore, he has been remanded to his brother’s custody as a private citizen of the Ascendency.”

Eli leaned back against the bulkhead. That seemed a bit asinine to him, but if it kept Thrawn in the clear he was not going to question it. “I see… and you wanted me here and my ship on standby just in case things didn’t work out that well?”

“Not _officially…._ ” Ar’alani said pointedly.

“Of course not, ma’am,” he said with a bow of his head, “I certainly never received any such order.”

The faintest hint of a smile ghosted on her lips for just a moment. She jerked her head toward the door, folded her hands behind her back and said stiffly, “Walk with me, Captain.”

Eli followed her down the loading ramp, across the hangar bay, and through large doors that led to a stone hall. She did not speak to him as she led him through the Mitth estate, back to the same parlor in which he had first seen Thrawn.

This time, however, it was only Thrass who awaited them. He bowed his head in acknowledgment of the pair from his place on the couch. Eli had met the man several times: liked him, even… from time to time. He was far more emotionally-open and expressive than any other Chiss he’d met, and every bit as manipulative as the old Lysatra folk tales.

He wondered if Thrawn’s amusement at the old stories he’d shared with him had been born in part from their similarity to his brother’s actual personality.

There was a certain level of uncanny physical resemblance between the brothers that always made Eli uneasy in Thrass’s presence. That, and the fact that he always seemed to know more about Eli and Thrawn’s _friendship_ than he’d let on. He’d made the occasional comment about how _invaluable_ Eli must have been for his brother to keep him so _close,_ always with an amused glitter in his eyes that gave Eli the urge to punch him in his pompous blue face.

Especially lately.

“Good afternoon, Captain,” Thrass said. “You seem… less happy than I would have expected to have my brother home safe.”

Eli stiffened. Of _course_ he was happy Thrawn was safe, but it was _complicated_ and _painful._ Not for Thrass, obviously… Thrawn would remember practically _all_ of his interactions with his brother.

Even most of his interactions with Ar’alani.

 _Eli_ was the only one who was getting memorially _screwed_.

Rather than point this out, Eli simply asked, “So it’s really true, then? He doesn’t remember anything from the last ten years?”

“It would seem that way, yes,” Thrass said casually as if this were no great loss.

Eli took a deep breath. “What about the Ozyly-esehembo? Could Second Sight be used to—“

Ar’alani cut him off with a sharp shake of her head. With a tone that made it clear the matter was not up for debate she said, “Not an option.” She moved to take a seat in one of the chairs, resting her hands on her crossed legs. “But that may not be our only hope. In our discussions, we learned Mitth’raw’nuruodo has been having dreams that may in fact be fragments of memory. His mission may not be a complete loss; it is possible he still retains information that may be crucial to Chiss security.”

Eli frowned, leaning against the wall. “What makes anyone think that they’re memories at all?”

“Because upon recollection he does not know what anyone in these dreams was saying—including himself,” Thrass explained.

Eli’s eyes widened, his heartbeat quickening. _Thrawn was dreaming in Basic… a language he no longer understood… maybe it_ was _all really still in that mind somewhere._

Ar’alani narrowed her eyes slightly. “According to his testimony, _you_ have made an appearance in _each one_ of these dreams, Captain.”

Eli felt himself flush and sincerely hoped neither Chiss was reading too much into the sudden increase in body heat that would be plainly visible in the infrared. “Doing what?” he asked, forcing his voice to remain level.

Thrass tilted his head, giving the Human an amused look. “What do you _think_ you were doing in these memories?”

Eli clenched his jaw, his patience with the man rapidly disintegrating. There was nothing remotely amusing about this situation. “I don’t know, _Mitth’ras’safis,_ why don’t you _tell_ me?”

Thrass smiled with a self-satisfied expression. “You were mostly following him around and taking notes on a datapad, from what I heard.”

The Human let out a single, dry laugh. “Yeah, that sounds like memories alright.”

“Indeed,” The Admiral agreed with a nod. She straightened, her posture becoming more commanding. “We have also been discussing _you,_ Captain. The Admirals believe your talents would be best served devoting yourself more fully to your analysis of the Ozyly-esehembo situation.”

Eli frowned. He was already spending much of his time analyzing the information he’d been provided on the Navigators _._ And given everything else that was happening, there was _no way_ that _that_ was what this was really about. He sighed, having an odd sort of déjà-vu to the day he’d been assigned as Thrawn’s aide. “And I suppose they want me to do that on Csilla?” he asked levelly. “Which would make me available to take on other planet-side duties as well? Like re-teaching Thrawn Basic?”

Ar’alani turned her head ever-so-slightly. “Indeed…”

“And do you agree with this decision, Admiral?” he asked tightly.

Thrass narrowed his eyes. “It is not your place to—“

“I know that,” Eli said only somewhat apologetically.

“You surprise me, Eli'van'to,” Thrass said coolly. “After all this time of hoping, and worrying, and searching, you would prefer to abandon him for a starship?”

Eli flushed in anger, taking a small step forward. “I would _never_ abandon him, you sanctimonious blue prick. But _he’s_ the one who _asked_ me to join the CDF in the first place, and now you’re tellin’ me I have to abandon that to, what, teach him Basic? And why? You don’t _care._ You all just want him to learn so you can pump him for information on the Empire!”

What he did not tell them, of course, was that every time he recalled how Thrawn looked at him with complete indifference he wanted to die.

Thrass took a sharp breath, waving a hand at Ar’alani before folding his arms across his chest, his expression clearly stating: _you deal with it._

Ar’alani pressed her lips into a thin line, “Mitth’raw’nuruodo believed that if there were a pattern to be discovered in the data we’ve collected on the Navigators, _you,_ Eli'van'to, would be able to find it. And _that_ is how you will best serve the Fleet. But even Mitth’raw’nuruodo could never have anticipated this situation—if his memories contain information pertaining to the security of the Ascendancy, then it is _crucial_ that those memories be recovered. So to answer your question, _Captain,_ yes—I _did_ agree with the decision because it was _my suggestion_.”

If Eli had a response to that, he did not make it.

Thrass shared a meaningful glance with Ar’alani before turning back to the Human. “You will be moved into your own quarters in the South Wing, close to Thrawn’s own.”

“Any decent sun exposure?” Eli asked ironically.

“Obviously not,” Thrass said simply. “A servant will escort you there now.” His mouth twisted into a wry smile. “Unless of course you’ve been so thoroughly indoctrinated by my brother that you don’t _intend_ to obey the Admirals’ orders?”

“Of course not,” Eli grumbled, watching as Thrass summoned a servant and barked a few quick orders.

A young man in a gray uniform piped in Mitth burgundy appeared at Eli’s side, bowing his head slightly before turning on his heel and heading for the door. Eli did his best to conceal his grimace as he gave a final nod to Thrass and a salute across his chest to Ar’alani before following the servant to his new quarters.

As they made their way past yet-another-parlor on their way to the South Wing, Thrawn himself suddenly appeared before the servant, seemingly out of nowhere. To his credit, the servant did not startle.

Apparently this was a fairly common occurrence.

Eli, however, felt like he’d seen a ghost and nearly jumped out of his skin. After only two weeks of medical attention and decent food, Thrawn had begun to look more like the Chiss he remembered.

“I will escort Eli’van’to from here,” Thrawn said simply, giving the servant a quick bow of his head.

Evidently, Thrawn contradicting his older brother’s orders to the staff was _also_ a common occurrence. Either the servant did not care or had learned long ago not to waste effort arguing with the man because he was gone in a flash.

“This way, Captain Eli’van’to,” Thrawn said as he turned to make his way down the hall.

Eli’s mouth suddenly felt painfully dry as he hurried forward to catch up with Thrawn, staying by habit a step beside and behind the taller man. Thrawn raised an eyebrow at that. “I am no longer an officer in the CDF, and therefore not your superior in rank, Eli’van’to,” he said with faint amusement. “There is no need for such formality.”

Eli had actually been quite comfortable not having to see the man’s face, thank you very much. Grimacing inwardly, he jogged forward to bring himself level with the Chiss.

They passed through the remaining corridors in silence, Eli doing his best to avoid the man’s cool gaze.

The walls of the South Wing were not painted in the ubiquitous burgundy of the rest of the house, but a deep charcoal gray. That combined with the dark blue and white accents, gave Eli the distinct impression of being in space.

Thrawn paused before a door, then gestured to the next door beyond. “Those are my chambers.” Nodding to the door directly across from that one he said, “and those are the rooms that have been prepared for you.”

He pushed the door before them open, revealing a small library.

Shelves of books lined the walls, broken up by the occasional painting or sculpture. A grand stone fireplace was surrounded by plush-looking silver-gray couches, generously adorned with warm-looking throws and pillows in shades of blue and black.

A black granite desk sat beneath a large abstract painting that reminded Eli of the star lines visible when jumping to hyperspace, but more expressive. The brushstrokes were almost frantic at the center—blue melding into white into blue—but giving way into pure white at the edges, like chaos dissolving into order.

Ignoring the rest of the room, Eli stepped forward to approach the painting. Even from this distance, it filled him with an odd sort of uncanny sadness that drew him closer. He wondered what might linger in the infrared—what he couldn't see.

Thrawn watched him with interest. After several minutes of watching Eli’s silent consideration of the piece, he asked, “Do you like the painting, Eli'van'to?”

“If I ‘like’ it isn’t really the question, is it?” Eli said, turning away from the painting at long last to examine the spines of the books, reading their Cheunh titles. Even after two years amongst the Chiss, the bounty of physical books never ceased to amaze him.

Thrawn took a seat on one of the couches, watching Eli make his circuit around the room like an apex predator watches an animal it has no real interest in eating: utterly unconcerned and perhaps a little bored, having nothing better to do than watch other, lesser animals scramble in their struggle to survive.

“I heard you call my brother a ‘sanctimonious blue prick,’” Thrawn said simply, a hint of amusement in his eyes as he watched Eli’s back muscles tense visibly, his hand pausing in its movement to reach one of the volumes on a shelf just above his head.

Eli was not remotely surprised to hear that Thrawn had managed to eavesdrop so effectively. “Yeah, well…” He glanced briefly over his shoulder at the Chiss. “He is.”

“I agree. Though hearing someone other than myself calling him out on it was quite satisfying.” He tilted his head in consideration, watching as Eli gave up in his exploration of the room, a resigned expression on his face. The human folded his arms across his chest and leaned against a white pillar.

“I have never heard a non-Chiss speak Cheunh so well,” Thrawn observed.

Eli nodded in thanks. “I had a very dedicated teacher.”

“You did not answer my earlier question,” Thrawn pointed out, gesturing to the painting.

Eli gave a small shrug. “I don’t know that _like_ is the word, but I certainly empathize with it.”

“Please explain.”

Eli turned his head to look at the painting. “I think somebody who would paint such a work must feel stultified… contained… maybe even trapped. I think whoever would hang it on their wall would do so because they wanted to be anywhere other than where they are. But it’s not just the painting, really, it’s the whole space; apart from all the star-charts, it’s as close as you can get in color to a starship without replacing the walls with durasteel.”

“Interesting… and do _you ‘_ want to be anywhere other than where you are?’”

Eli turned back to him. “No,” he said truthfully, to his own chagrin. “But I do know the feeling.”

Thrawn looked at him with a curious expression. “And if my brother had procured the painting _for_ me, what would _that_ say?”

Eli let out a burst of laughter then covered his mouth. “Sorry,” he explained at Thrawn’s slightly bemused expression. “It’s just the thought of Thrawn letting his _brother_ pick out his art for him is pretty comical.”

“You knew me very well,” Thrawn conceded, eying Eli with renewed interest.

Eli tensed slightly, looking determinedly down at his folded arms. “Yeah. As much as anyone in the Empire could, I suppose.”

Thrawn stood, folding his hands behind his back as he approached the painting, “I remember procuring this work. The artist was a Navigator. Once their Third Sight faded, they devoted themselves to creating images of the things they’d seen over the course of their duties. I think they resented their role, while also missing it dearly… not quite understanding who they were without it.”

He turned to look at Eli. “May I ask a question?” Eli nodded and Thrawn continued, turning away from the painting, “I’ve noticed you speak of me in the third-person, and yet here I am, similarly appalled by the thought of allowing my brother to make artistic—or indeed _any—_ decisions on my behalf.”

Eli shifted uncomfortably against the wall. “Well, you’re _not_ him—not legally, at any rate.”

Thrawn arched an eyebrow. “And is that what makes me who I am? My legal status?”

Eli snorted. “Be grateful it does—otherwise they’d be shippin’ you off Navigator-knows-where with a couple of generators and a box of rations all over again.”

“Conceded…” Thrawn tilted his head. “But confidentially—and strictly off the legal record—what do _you_ think? In your mind, do you distinguish between the Chiss standing before you, and the Chiss with whom you served in the Empire?”

“I think I should,” Eli said quietly.

“And why is that?” Thrawn asked.

To see that man looking at him with the same expression of polite curiosity he used to give whatever new problem had landed on his desk was… painful. That was the only way to describe it. Eli’s heartbeat began ringing in his ears and he forced himself to turn away from those familiar-yet-unfamiliar red eyes. “Can we just leave it? For now? Please?”

Thrawn eyed him intensely for a few moments, then inclined his head. “As you wish.” He resumed his place on one of the couches and said, “Perhaps we should begin.”

“Begin?”

“My brother and the Admiral have explained the situation, I believe? About the importance of my learning Basic?” Eli gave him a stiff nod and Thrawn asked, “How did you teach me before?”

“Well, honestly you already knew a lot of Basic by the time you got to me,” Eli admitted, brushing his hair behind his ear. “But you had me tell you stories about the Chiss from my homeworld to help strengthen your grammar and vocabulary.”

“Very well. Then perhaps you could tell me stories about myself instead.”

Eli frowned. Thrawn would never rely on a stranger to provide him with an accurate account of something so important. “You want me to tell you… stories about _you_?”

“Is it so strange that I wish to be updated on the last ten years of my life?” Thrawn asked simply, leaning back against the couch and resting an ankle over his thigh.

Eli gave him a wry smile. He took a deep breath and said, “Let me guess. You don’t trust that I’m gonna tell you the truth, but you _assume_ you’d be able to intuit the accuracy of the story from either, one, subtle shifts in my muscle movements and body temperature; or two, your own knowledge of what you believe you’d be most likely to do in the situations I describe. And then you’ll use that to determine my general character and what my intentions are based on how I choose to navigate these stories?”

Thrawn blinked at him a few times.

Eli crossed the room and took a seat on the couch across from Thrawn. “Yeah… we’ve been down this road before, so don’t look so impressed. Where’d you want me to start?”

Thrawn gave him a small smile. It was the first time Eli had seen that smile in years. “The beginning, of course.”

In spite of it all, the sight made Eli’s eyes crinkle in a smile of his own. “ _Of course._ ”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter title from...
> 
> "I Am" by John Clare
> 
> I am—yet what I am none cares or knows;  
> My friends forsake me like a memory lost:  
> I am the self-consumer of my woes—  
> They rise and vanish in oblivious host,  
> Like shadows in love’s frenzied stifled throes  
> And yet I am, and live—like vapours tossed
> 
> Into the nothingness of scorn and noise,  
> Into the living sea of waking dreams,  
> Where there is neither sense of life or joys,  
> But the vast shipwreck of my life’s esteems;  
> Even the dearest that I loved the best  
> Are strange—nay, rather, stranger than the rest.
> 
> I long for scenes where man hath never trod  
> A place where woman never smiled or wept  
> There to abide with my Creator, God,  
> And sleep as I in childhood sweetly slept,  
> Untroubling and untroubled where I lie  
> The grass below—above the vaulted sky.


	3. "These that twice befell"

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mitth family dinners are just as awkward as Eli suspected, and after a sparring session, Thrawn begins to suspect that the human is more than he seems.

** Chapter 3: “These that twice befell” **

“So,” Thrass asked from behind his desk. “Any more recovered memories?”

Eli fought the urge to roll his eyes. The Syndic had taken to summoning the Human to his office almost daily to ask for updates on his brother’s progress. The two ate dinner together every day: why in the name of Csilla’s seven moons couldn’t he just ask _Thrawn_?

“A few… nothing very important.” _To you, at least,_ he thought ruefully.

“Oh?” Thrass perked up slightly, leaning forward. “Such as?”

“A few snippets from our Academy days. Certainly nothing of security or military interest.”

“And how is his mood?”

“I think he’s frustrated being stuck here, and understandably so,” Eli said flatly.

Thrass let out a single, breathy laugh. “Well, then that makes two of you, doesn’t it?” Eli glared at him and Thrass sighed, “I apologize, Captain. I realize this is a stressful time for all of us. Is there anything you need from me? Anything I can do to make this process easier for you?”

 _Yeah, you can stop callin’ me to your office and leave me alone to do my damn job._ “I can’t think of anything, Syndic.”

“But you’ll let me know if you do,” Thrass said. It was not a question.

Eli nodded. “Will that be all?”

“No,” Thrass said, folding his hands together upon his desk. “You have been taking meals alone, I’ve noticed.”

Eli’s brows went up. “Is that a problem? I didn’t realize dining with you was in the purview of my duties.”

Thrass looked like he was trying to be politic by not rolling his eyes, and struggling immensely. “Then consider it a favor to me, personally, and join us for an informal dinner this evening,” Thrass said simply. When Eli looked less than convinced, he let out a sharp breath. “Consider it a favor to my _brother,_ then.”

“Fine,” Eli said flatly. “ _Now_ are we done?”

Thrass gave him a wave of dismissal and Eli turned from the office.

The Human did not see Thrawn leaning behind the pillar outside, a pensive look on his face.

* * *

Dinner, to no one’s surprise, was an awkward affair.

Eli couldn’t help but be reminded of the many fancy Coruscanti functions he’d been subjected to throughout his career in the Imperial Navy. It was hard to say what made it more awkward: the presence of his CO or the way Thrass kept looking at him like he was expecting him to do something vulgar.

Thrass occupied the head position at the table. Ar’alani was to his right, and Thrawn to his left. Eli, who had a brief moment of panic when he realized he had no idea where to sit, was spared when Thrawn pushed back the chair to his own left, gesturing for the human to take a seat beside him.

As Eli took in the shining table settings, candles, and lavish food, he turned to Thrawn and whispered out of the corner of his mouth, “I was told this was ‘informal.’”

“For Thrass this _is_ informal,” Thrawn replied drily, unfolding his napkin and laying it across his lap. “If you like, I can fake a neurological episode of some sort and spare us both the indignity.”

Eli barked out a laugh, and quickly covered his mouth, blushing at the bemused looks Thrass and Ar’alani were giving him. From the side, he could just make out the ghost of a smile on Thrawn’s face as he speared some sort of four-legged baked bird on a fork and deposited it onto Eli’s plate along with an assortment of vegetables.

“That was not remotely funny,” Eli said utterly unconvincingly as he accepted his plate.

“Yes, it was,” Thrawn said simply.

Just as Thrawn was about to reach for the pot of tea to Eli’s left, Eli took Thrawn’s teacup instead and filled it himself. Then, he reached for the water pitcher between them and poured a small splash onto the top. He pushed it toward Thrawn and realized with a start that the man was staring at him with a strange look on his face.

Eli frowned, realizing he’d done it without thinking. “I’m sorry, I guess I just assumed that’s how you—“

“It is,” Thrawn said quietly, accepting the cup. “Thank you, Eli’van’to.”

“Is it really that surprising your aide would know how you take your tea, brother?” Thrass asked, an amused look on his face.

Eli shot Thrass a glare. “I was an _officer in the Navy_ : not his _secretary._ ”

As Thrass opened his mouth to retort that _yes he was so_ , Ar’alani cleared her throat loudly. “Mitth’raw’nuruodo,” she began in her firm, clear voice as she spooned sauce onto her plate. “Have you yet been cleared to resume your training regimen? The mind and body are linked, after all. You may find that through physical exertion you free your subconscious mind to work through unresolved questions… or so _you’ve_ said.” 

“Have I?” Thrawn asked tightly, taking a long sip of tea.

Ar’alani arched an eyebrow, surrendering no ground. “You have. Eli’van’to is capable… for a Human. Perhaps you could train with _him_?”

Eli choked on some manner of bean, reaching for his glass of wine to wash it down.

“I do not wish to further encroach upon his time,” Thrawn said, holding his cup of tea to his lips and doing his best to ignore Eli’s quiet choking.

“Nonsense,” Ar’alani said dismissively. “I will not have my Captain going soft just because his duties have temporarily shifted away from combat.” Turning to Eli, she said in her most commanding voice, “Captain, you are ordered to train with Mitth’raw’nuruodo.”

Eli, who had more or less composed himself at that point croaked, “Yes, ma’am.”

* * *

“You know, just because Admiral Ar’alani ordered _me_ to train with you doesn’t mean _you’re_ obligated to train with me,” Eli pointed out as he stepped out of his shoes and onto the large central mat of the dojo, removing his outer uniform jacket and tossing it to the side. 

Thrawn, who had already undressed down to his own burgundy undershirt, eyed the movement of the black fabric before returning his gaze to Eli. “Are you in the habit of working out ways of disobeying orders on semantic technicalities, Captain?” 

Eli breathed out a nervous laugh. “ _No,”_ he said feebly.

 _He absolutely was_.

But to be fair, it was a bad habit he’d picked up from Thrawn. No one could abuse the spirit of an order in favor of the letter like that man.

“You wouldn’t want to spar with your brother instead?” Eli asked.

Thrawn took a few steps, walking about Eli in a short arc. “My brother refuses to spar with me after I broke his nose the last time.”

“And how old were you when this happened?” Eli asked, unable to hide the curiosity from his voice.

“Thirteen.”

“And Thrass?”

“Sixteen,” Thrawn said. “He got inordinately upset for some reason.”

Eli gave him a knowing smile. “Well, did he deserve it, at least?”

“Perhaps,” Thrawn said simply. “If by ‘deserve’ you mean that he was not properly guarding his face.”

Eli breathed out a laugh, taking a few steps back to his starting position. “I’ll be sure to guard mine, then,” he said.

It was strange hearing Thrawn speak about his youth on Csilla. Eli had never even known Thrawn _had_ a brother until a few days before he left the Empire. But his youth was most of what this Thrawn had, Eli supposed.

Of course, it was a youth Eli knew next to nothing about.

On top of that, Eli wasn’t sure if it was the lack of a uniform or the slightly longer length of his blue-black hair that fell in a few careless strands across his forehead, but Thrawn even _looked_ younger somehow.

“You’ve been cleared by the doctors? You’re sure you’re alright to spar?” Eli asked hesitantly.

Thrawn nodded and assumed the opening stance: bent slightly at the knees, tucking one arm behind his back and outstretching the other, beckoning for Eli to begin.

“I don’t want to hurt you,” Eli said, mimicking Thrawn’s pose. 

Thrawn arched an eyebrow. “You are Human. I am Chiss. I doubt you could.”

In lieu of a response, Eli charged forward, leapt into the air, and brought his knee flying toward Thrawn’s chest.

Red eyes widened in surprise and Thrawn quickly deflected the hit with his hands, pushing Eli away from him and taking several steps back as he watched Eli spring back on his hands, reassessing the combat capabilities of the Human before him.

Eli paused for a moment, waiting in a ready position for Thrawn to make some sort of indication he was ready to continue.

“Why are you stalling?” Thrawn asked. “You had me on the defensive—you should have struck again.”

“I'm just making sure you’re alright to continue, first,” Eli said simply.

Thrawn narrowed his eyes. Eli had made a move, observed how Thrawn reacted, and then stepped back to reassess, sacrificing his advantage to study his opponent.

It’s what he himself would have done.

_Interesting._

Thrawn went on the offensive, forcing Eli where he wanted him with a kick. After an exchange of several kicks and blocks, he spun and reached around Eli’s neck to get him in a lock. Eli aimed a careful elbow just beneath his diaphragm, sending him stumbling to the side. The hit was too intentional to be an accident; he took several steps back.

“Who taught you Chiss pressure points?” Thrawn asked, his voice slightly strained by the muscles tightening painfully in his chest.

Eli gave him a wry smile. “The _hek’sana?_ Well, it wasn’t the CDF.”

“I had gathered that, yes,” Thrawn said tightly, rubbing at his sternum. “The Chiss see such study as…”

“Distasteful?” Eli suggested.

Thrawn gave him a wry look. "An understatement: it is assumed Chiss should have no reason to fight Chiss, so the CDF does not permit its study.”

“You’ve studied it, though,” Eli pointed out.

“I have, but I did not realize I’d taught it to _you_ ,” Thrawn admitted, a somewhat indignant expression on his face. 

“Are you alright?” Eli asked, straightening slightly.

Thrawn took a sharp breath. “I am fine, and would prefer you stop asking me that.”

Eli shrugged. “Well, I’d prefer a sparring partner who can make me break a sweat, and yet here we are.”

Thrawn gave him a subtle grin, eyeing him predatorily. “Is that so?”

“Yeah,” Eli said impatiently. “I know perfectly well that you’re holding back so stop it already; I don’t know what Humans you’ve been hanging around in the past, but I’m not delicate.” 

“Perhaps you should prove it,” Thrawn said, resuming the opening stance. 

Eli mirrored him and said, “If you insist.”

They met in the center once more, this time both fighting in earnest. In a flurry of rapid strikes and kicks, each gracefully dodged the blows of the other even as they dissected his opponent’s movements. Their sweat-slicked limbs slid against one another as they battled for dominance, meeting strike for strike.

Eli was faster than him, Thrawn realized, but he was not as strong. He did, however, have the advantage of being able to predict Thrawn’s attacks based on past experience. Apparently, his own fighting style had not changed significantly during his time in the Empire, if Eli’s almost uncanny ability to anticipate Thrawn’s moves was any indication. He adjusted his approach, attempting to undercut Eli’s speed by holding his ground, forcing the Human to come to him.

Eli slid beneath Thrawn’s palm strike, realizing too late that he’d been maneuvered into leaving his left leg unguarded. He felt Thrawn grab his thigh, pulling him off the ground and spinning him around before slamming his chest to the mat, pulling his arms behind him and pressing a knee into his lower back.

Eli knew how to get out this particular hold because Thrawn had taught him how: he could kick out his leg and twist to throw the man off balance. But as he felt the Thrawn’s breath against his neck, the weight of him against his back, he felt paralyzed.

 _Gods, he even smells the same_ , he thought, the sudden desperation to be anywhere else surging through him.

“I yield,” Eli choked out, his voice muffled by the mat beneath his face.

Thrawn was off him instantly. Eli rolled over onto his back and Thrawn reached out a hand to help him up but the Human didn’t take it. Nor did he look at Thrawn as he moved toward the door to retrieve his uniform jacket and shoes.

“Did I hurt you?” Thrawn asked, his face concerned.

Eli finally turned to meet his red eyes at that. “No, you didn’t, I just…” he shook his head remorsefully as he stepped into his shoes. “It was a good match. But I have to go, I’m sorry.”

Out of the corner of his eye, Eli saw Thrawn staring at him as he rushed out of the dojo and shame flared in his chest, heating his cheeks. Deciding the rooms he’d been provided here were closer than his ship, he made for the South wing.

Eli locked his bedroom door behind him and leaned against the wall, covering his eyes with his hands and taking deep, calming breaths.

He could still feel the ghost of Thrawn’s breath against his neck.

Could smell Thrawn’s sweat on him now.

_Gods, did it hurt._

Eli desperately tugged at the clasps of his uniform, pulling off his clothes as he made his way to the bathroom and shoving them all into the laundry chute.

Turning the taps as hot as he could tolerate, he stepped into the generous stone-lined shower, closing his eyes as their mixed sweat washed down the drain.

Eli had often thought that their love story had been the product of a confluence of events so unlikely that it should not have even been _possible_.

Of all the people to be present when Thrawn was found by the Empire, it was one of the rare Imperials who could speak the same obscure trade language the Chiss could—had heard the name of his people.

It was _also_ someone whose worldview so beautifully complemented Thrawn’s own: while Thrawn saw the world as a colorful painting of behaviors and motivations, Eli saw it as a symphony of numbers and patterns.

They were two minds seen as unique or, more accurately, _strange_ amongst their own people who found comfort and understanding in one another.

Not to mention a very deep and _very_ mutual attraction.

Eli realized with a pang that he didn’t even know _when_ his Thrawn had begun to see his aide-de-camp as more than his translator or friend. He suspected it hadn’t been until after years of fighting, planning, struggling, and just _surviving_ side-by-side. Eli had always assumed that _he’d_ fallen for Thrawn long before Thrawn had fallen for him.

He'd never asked...

He’d probably never know now, he supposed.

So much of what they experienced—the battles, the shared adversity—had brought them closer together… but none of the circumstances that solidified their bond existed here.

Their shared journey was as unique as they were and could never be repeated.

The odds of them finding each other in the first place were already so, _so low._

That Eli would fall in love with Thrawn who, in turn, would love him _back_ had seemed like even _more_ of a miracle of probability.

Eli had no reason—no _right_ —to hope that such a miracle would happen again.

As his father always said, lightning didn’t strike the same place twice.

* * *

“I thought you were meant to be sparring with Eli’van’to, not the _air,_ ” Thrass said coolly from the entrance to the dojo.

Thrawn continued running through forms with his fighting staff, ignoring his brother.

Noticing the sheen of sweat on his brother’s face, Thrass narrowed his eyes and asked, “How long have you been at that now?”

“What time is it?” Thrawn asked, his breathing labored.

“Around six,” Thrass answered.

“Then three and a half hours.”

Thrass threw up his hands in frustration. “When the doctors said you were clear to train, this is _not_ what they had in mind, Thrawn! You can’t do this to yourself!”

“I must,” Thrawn said, flowing into the next series of movements. “And I will.”

“And _why_ must you?” Thrass asked with a skeptically raised eyebrow.

“Because,” Thrawn said, resigning himself to the end of his training session and turning to face his brother. “My form is sloppy from lack of practice, and my movements slow from lack of conditioning. If I am to reclaim control over my mind, I must reclaim control over my body. _You_ should try it,” he said and tossed the fighting staff to his brother, who caught it in both hands.

Thrass pressed his mouth into a thin line before tossing the stick back. “Very funny.”

Thrawn caught it in one hand and gave it a quick twirl. “What do you know about Eli’van’to?” he asked.

Thrass scoffed, “We care about _my_ opinion all of the sudden?”

“Not as such, no,” Thrawn said. “But…” he trailed off, hesitating a moment.

Thrass folded his arms across his chest, giving his brother an impatient look. “Can we not?"

Thrawn gave him a blank look and Thrass elaborated, "Can we not do this whole ‘manipulate me into knowing what you want to know without having to actually ask for it’ thing for once? Maybe pretend you somehow magically got over that rather unfortunate habit of yours at some point in the last decade?”

Thrawn blinked at him a few times then gave him a small nod, looking down at the ground as he traced a circle on the mat with his fighting stick. “Very well. Eli’van’to knows things about me that I do not think can be accounted for by the information I’ve been given: that he was my translator, my aide, that he served beside me in the Navy as a Lieutenant Commander before I supposedly ‘leant’ him to the CDF because I believed his talent for identifying patterns in data would be helpful with the Ozyly-esehembo situation.” 

Thrass arched an eyebrow. “And we’re not asking the man in question because….”

“I _have_ asked,” Thrawn said with the faint hint of petulance that only ever seemed to surface when speaking to his older brother.

Thrass gave his brother a cynical smile. “And by ‘ask’ you mean, _of course,_ 'manipulate him into a situation in which he discloses the sought-after information without having to _actually_ _ask for it_?'”

“Perhaps,” Thrawn admitted quietly. “His descriptions of our shared experiences have been illuminating, and nothing he has told me contradicts either my dreams or my own sense of what would have _likely_ happened, but there is still this tension in his face when he speaks to me that I cannot account for with the information I have been given.”

Thrass gave him a knowing smile. “And you do so hate having to rely upon other people’s information.”

For a moment, Thrawn debated telling his brother about their earlier sparring session: when Eli’van’to had been holding his own quite well until, suddenly and inexplicably, he was not.

What he did _not_ consider sharing with Thrass—but equally grating on his mind—was the fact of Eli'van'to's refusal to share anything substantive from their conversations with the Syndic or Admirals he reported to. Thrawn had eavesdropped on most of the meetings between his tutor and brother, and at first had assumed that Eli's apparent reticence was a tactic to lure Thrawn into a sense of security, to draw more information out of him. Not that Thrawn was hiding much of anything, but they would hardly know that.

But now, after analyzing Eli more closely, it seemed to be a straightforward _violation_ of CDF orders made on nothing more than _principle._ What he still did not understand was whether this was a product of Eli's character in general? Or a product of his loyalty to Thrawn in particular?

“Who was he to me, really?” Thrawn asked, twirling the stick at his side once more. “Why is he here?”

“Who do _you_ think he was?” Thrass asked. When Thrawn simply continued to stare at him, he sighed. “You have always inspired loyalty in those serving beneath you. Perhaps he was a particularly capable Ensign whom you took under your wing. He wouldn’t be the first.”

“I taught him the _hek’sana,_ ” Thrawn said. “I would never have thought I’d show a non-Chiss that… or even a _Chiss_ that, for that matter.”

“Maybe _you_ didn’t teach it to him?”

Thrawn gave him an impatient look. “Who did, then? So far as I know the CDF still sees their use as an obscenity bordering on _treason._ ”

“Fair point,” Thrass admitted.

“He knows many things about me,” Thrawn said. “He can anticipate my actions before I make them. When he saw the painting in my library, he…” Thrawn hesitated and shook his head, finishing simply, “It is disconcerting.”

Thrass frowned. “Does he—“

“No,” Thrawn said quietly. “I do not think he does. But all the same,” he added tightly before resuming his series of fighting forms, each movement punctuating his words, “I. Do not. Like. _Not_ _knowing_.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter title from the following poem by Emily Dickinson:
> 
> "My life closed twice before its close –  
> It yet remains to see  
> If Immortality unveil  
> A third event to me
> 
> So huge, so hopeless to conceive  
> As these that twice befell.  
> Parting is all we know of heaven,  
> And all we need of hell."
> 
> “I don’t know what humans you’ve been hangin’ around in the past, but I’m not delicate.” In case you were wondering, yes: that is me making a dig at Anakin Skywalker. ~~and no I'm not sorry~~


	4. "A hurt yet found"

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Thrawn's Basic proficiency has been progressing at an amazing pace—even for him—leading Eli to wonder just how lost his memories are. 
> 
> But the more Thrawn learns, the more frustrated he becomes.
> 
> Meanwhile, Eli learns more about the circumstances behind Thrawn's survival of the _Chimaera's_ crash on Rakata Prime, finding more questions than answers.

Chapter Four: "A hurt yet found"

“So, you suggested that they be sent to the _Skystrike_ academy instead,” Eli said, finishing the story. He had been coaching Thrawn in Basic for over a month now, and it was amazing just how quickly he was picking it up. He doubted if even someone so brilliant as _Thrawn_ had been able to pick up the language this quickly the first time he’d learned it.

It was almost as if Thrawn had only needed to be reminded that he knew it. Eli found himself wondering what else could return if Thrawn were only reminded it was there, then quickly admonished himself for the thought.

They would spend hours in the library each day: Eli telling stories about their time together, and Thrawn asking questions when he heard a word he didn’t recognize.

“ _Skystrike?”_ Thrawn repeated in Basic. Interestingly, unlike the first time Eli had taught him, the Chiss accent was almost nonexistent. “That is a school for… _ochan’a_?” he asked in Cheunh.

“Fighter pilots,” Eli supplied.

Thrawn leaned back in his chair. “An interesting solution. I do not know that I would choose it now.”

Eli gave him an amused look. “No? And why is that?”

“Given the chance, they would have hurt you,” he said in Basic, adding in Cheunh, “Anyone who would attack a fellow cadet is not psychologically fit for military service.”

Eli shrugged, explaining in Basic, “That's certainly what I thought at the time. But Gimm did end up being useful as a pilot later, even if he was still a huge prick.” He laughed, “Just to me though—you became his CO, so he mostly just took out his frustrations on the lowly Ensign, I guess.”

“Prick?” Thrawn asked.

Having none of the qualms about politeness he’d had when the Emperor had instructed him to teach Thrawn Basic the first time around, Eli translated the Cheunh word without hesitation.

“Ah,” Thrawn said. “Like my brother.”

“Yeah, but shorter and less blue,” Eli explained, a grin tugging at the corner of his mouth.

Thrawn gave him a small smile. “I see.” Then, tilting his head thoughtfully he asked, “Did I ever receive cuts on my cheeks? And were you injured on your hands?”

Eli frowned. “Yes….”

“I had a dream that the two of us were in what appeared to be a barracks. I cleaned blood and grit from your hands in a sink. Then we were sitting on a bed, and you were tending to the wounds on my face,” Thrawn said, gesturing to his cheeks. He watched as the Human’s facial glow increased, his eyes shifting to look at a pillow at his side rather than at Thrawn himself.

Thrawn noted the strangely-affected behavior and continued, “It is difficult to parse out what are genuine memories, and what are only dreams. Especially given that the dreams may be _inspired_ by genuine memories, but altered to a varying degree. Is that how you remember it, Captain?”

Eli swallowed as he remembered pulling back Thrawn’s shirt to check the bruising on his ribs.

The blue skin had felt cool and smooth under his hands.

Thrawn's breath had hitched under Eli’s touch.

“Yeah," Eli said casually, running a hand through his hair. "You, uh… you didn’t want to go to the med-center because you said they wouldn’t know anything about Chiss biology. Of course, later I realized it was because you didn’t want them to _learn_ anything about Chiss biology. So I helped fix you up as best I could in our dorm.”

“Did you have to do that a lot?”

Eli gave him a fond smile, glancing down at his hands as he answered, “Yeah, I did. You weren’t exactly afraid of putting yourself in the line of fire, even after becoming an Admiral.” Thrawn gave him an assenting nod and he continued, “Though, after the fifth blaster shot, I suspected it was because you were too lazy to actually drag yourself all the way to the med-bay when you had a perfectly good aide-de-camp who’d had to learn field medicine on the fly to take care of your sorry blue ass.”

“Captain,” Thrawn said, an amused glint in his eyes. “I am sure I was merely concerned about protecting the Ascendancy’s security interests.”

Eli leaned back into the cushions, folding his arms across his chest. “Uh-huh. _Sure_ you were.”

Thrawn tilted his head. “That is that _sarcasm_ you explained last week, I take it?”

“No, of _course_ it wasn’t.”

Thrawn narrowed his eyes at the Human.

“Yes,” Eli said, holding up his hands apologetically. “That was indeed sarcasm.”

* * *

Eli reached forward, supporting Thrawn’s jaw with one hand and gently dabbing bacta with the other. “A scholarship to the Skystrike Academy? Seriously?” he asked, shaking his head in disbelief. His tone was irritated, but his brown eyes were softened by concern, his touch gentle.

“It is in everyone’s collective best interest,” Thrawn insisted, watching Eli’s face with interest. He was so expressive, even for a Human.

Eli scoffed, “Oh yeah? You really think somebody who’d _attack_ a fellow cadet ought to be servin’ in the military?” He sighed. “Lie back, I wanna check your ribs.”

Thrawn obliged, lying back gingerly. “They did not attack a fellow cadet in their minds, they attacked an alien: an opponent.”

“And that makes it all okay, huh?” Eli muttered as he peeled back Thrawn’s shirt, wincing in sympathy as he lightly traced his fingers over the large purple splotches. “You’re _sure_ I can’t convince you to go to the med-center?”

“Yes.”

“Alright,” Eli said with a resigned sigh, straddling Thrawn’s hips.

Thrawn’s eyes widened as Eli pressed his hands to his chest and growled, “ _Stay with me, dammit!”_ before pumping down hard with the heels of his locked hands.

Thrawn clenched his eyes shut against the burning of salt.

He couldn’t breathe.

His lungs were screaming.

His ribs felt as though they’d been crushed.

He rolled over onto his side and coughed, splashing the mattress beneath him with briny water, gasping through the clenching pain in his throat to fill his lungs.

When he tried to open his eyes to see where he was, he realized with panic that they were already open—he couldn’t see—he tried to reach out to Eli but couldn’t move his arms. Hands, rough and callused cradled his face.

“You’re not getting out of this that easy, _Grand Admiral,_ ” came a new voice. “I’m gonna make sure you answer for _every death,_ you hear me? _You are never going to hurt my family or my home_ ever _again.”_

Suddenly, Thrawn’s vision filled with brilliant blue light—and at the center, a perfect glowing orb—beckoning to him. But when he lifted a hand to reach for the sphere it began to twitch and expand, sending off plumes of white light like flares from a star: it was too close, too hot, they were going to crash into it, he needed to—

_“No, no, no—what’s happening—I—I didn’t—I was just trying to—THRAWN!”_

Thrawn sprung upward, gasping for breath as he surveyed his surroundings. As his sleep-blurred vision came into focus, he could make out the black blankets… the bed frame… the window.

He forced his breathing to a slow, deliberate pace…breathing in through his mouth… and out through his nose.

Running his hands back through his hair, Thrawn grasped at the already-fading dream. He remembered the feel of Eli’s hands on his cheeks—it _was_ a memory, he now knew, and one he had dreamt of several times.

But never like this.

He rubbed the heels of his hands over his face, the light of the blue star still burning his eyes.

It did not let him see, but nor did it let him sleep.

* * *

Thrawn was not in the library as Eli had expected. Thinking perhaps that he’d let his morning training routine go on a little too long, he checked the dojo. Sure enough, he could hear the sounds of flesh striking wood long before stepping inside.

Thrawn was shirtless, his chest and back shining with sweat as he ran through a series of strikes against a large wooden training dummy. With each sound of flesh knocking against wood came a soft grunt.

Eli felt himself flush, mesmerized into stillness by the sight until he noticed that the bandages Thrawn had wrapped around his hands and wrists were fraying and speckled red.

“Thrawn!” he shouted, running forward. Thrawn did not respond until Eli gripped him by the shoulder, forcibly pulling him back.

Thrawn blinked at him a few moments as if surprised to see him there. “Yes, Eli’van’to?” he asked calmly between panting breaths.

Eli shot him a sharp look before taking the Chiss’s hands in his, inspecting them closely. “What the hell were you thinking?” he demanded, his accent thickening from emotion. “You could’ve broken your hand!”

Thrawn winced as Eli began pulling back the wrapping, revealing the bruises and small, open sores. “I would not have,” he insisted but did not resist Eli’s ministrations.

“If you wanted to train so badly why didn’t you just ask me?” Eli asked, turning Thrawn’s hands over in his, running a finger gently between his knuckles and along the ligaments of his hands to check for deeper damage.

“I did not want to trouble you after last time,” Thrawn said simply. Eli shot him a quick look before returning his brown eyes to the hands in front of him. _Guilt? Sadness? Both?_

“If I’d known the alternative was you punching your hands into a bloody pulp I’d have been more than happy to oblige you,” Eli said hotly.

Thrawn shook his head. “No, there was something about training with the dummy… the feeling of my hands striking the hardness of the wood it was… familiar somehow.”

“You’ve trained this way before, I’m sure,” Eli said, releasing Thrawn’s hands.

Thrawn shook his head. “There is something else here,” Thrawn said, looking down at his hands. “Something in these movements—this pain—but I can’t…” he trailed off with an uncharacteristic, helpless sigh.

Eli’s heart broke at the sound. “Well,” he said, “Maybe it would help if you talked about it instead?”

Thrawn arched an eyebrow. “Is that a Human thing? Solving complex neuro-psychological problems by talking about them?”

“Sometimes,” Eli admitted. “At least, according to my mother,” he added with a sheepish shrug.

“It is a decidedly un-Chiss approach, as discussing such complex issues would necessitate admitting to the existence of said issues.”

Eli scoffed, “Since when do _you_ care about the ‘Chiss approach?’”

Thrawn nodded his head to the side. “Touché.”

“C’mon,” Eli said, taking Thrawn by the hand and pulling him toward the large bathroom that abutted the dojo. “We can talk while I get your hands taken care of.”

Thrawn looked at him skeptically but allowed himself to be pulled toward the bathroom all the same.

Eli ran the tap on the large sink, holding Thrawn’s hands beneath the water as he pulled out a medkit. Looking at Thrawn’s face and finding him still unconvinced he said, “Just humor me.” As he unscrewed a jar of kolto salve he added, “let’s call it Basic practice.”

Thrawn gave him a subtle smile as Eli dried his hands before applying the translucent green healing salve to his blue skin. “Very well, not-a-doctor-Eli’van’to,” he said, switching to Basic. “What would you have me discuss?”

Eli shrugged noncommittally, pulling out a roll of gauze. “What’s the first thing you remember? After it happened, I mean,” Eli asked, his tone hesitant.

Thrawn took a deep breath and let it out slowly. “I remember pain… confusion… my vision was…” he hesitated a moment as he recalled the Basic word, “...compromised. There were hands on my face. After a few minutes, my vision returned. I learned later that he had healed me.”

“’He’ being Ezra Bridger?” Eli asked, his brow furrowing as he wrapped Thrawn’s hands.

Thrawn eyed Eli curiously at that, but did not ask how he knew the name. Instead, he only nodded and continued, “It became clear that he knew me, though I did not know him. I learned that he’d pulled me from the… _ja’jaiki_?”

“Wreckage,” Eli translated, his mouth going dry as he said the word.

“The _wreckage_ in the sea,” Thrawn continued more quietly. “It should not have been possible for a Human to swim so far in such rough waters with a blaster shot to the shoulder, but of course he was a Jedi, and many things are possible for him that are not for most.”

Eli felt his throat tighten. “The patrol who found you didn’t explore the wreckage—it was too dangerous. But they’d said there were no survivors they could detect.”

Thrawn nodded gravely. “Bridger assured me that most had time to get to the…” he switched to Sy Bisti, “ _Yedo’poja?_ ”

“Escape pods,” Eli translated for him, the lines on his forehead smoothing somewhat in relief.

“Got to the _escape pods_ , long before the crash. Some remained behind, however, and none of them survived. I do not know their names: I am sorry.”

Eli frowned, releasing Thrawn’s hands once he finished wrapping them. “How did he do that? Assure you, I mean. You wouldn’t have understood Basic much at all then.”

“He knew some Sy Bisti and even less Meese Caulf," Thrawn explained. "But mostly we communicated through drawings in the—lee'i?"

"Sand."

"Drawings in the _sand,"_ Thrawn continued. He grimaced slightly before saying in Sy Bisti, "Somehow, he still managed to convey himself as an exceedingly obnoxious individual, even with the language barriers. It was quite impressive.”

Eli breathed out a laugh and leaned against the counter, his arms folded across his chest. “I’m sure he found _you_ perfectly charming,” he said in Basic, giving Thrawn an amused look. "And this was meant to be language practice."

“He did not,” Thrawn assured him, mouthing the Basic words with pointed exaggeration. He hesitated a moment then asked, “You would have served with most of the crew of the _Chimaera_?”

“I did,” Eli said, looking down at his own hands a moment, wondering if those who’d died had stayed behind because they'd refused to seek refuge until they could ensure their Admiral’s safety. “Did he survive? The Jedi? The patrol never mentioned him.”

Thrawn nodded. “We worked together to survive for a time; he was not a trained survival… ist?” Eli nodded and Thrawn continued, “Not a trained _survivalist,_ being more accustomed to cities, I think. But his abilities were very useful. Bridger’s people came for him…” he trailed off, thinking a moment, “I’d estimate four months before the CDF found me.”

Eli frowned. “Bridger’s people?”

“Yes. Two women: another Human and a Jedi.”

Anger furled in Eli’s chest. “They just _left_ you there?”

Thrawn shook his head. “Not quite, no. The Jedi—Ahsoka was her name—spoke fluent Meese Caulf, as did her Master. Somehow, she knew that I knew him.” His eyes flicked away for a moment. "Jedi are prone to such insights, I've learned."

Eli’s eyes widened. There was only one Jedi Thrawn had ever mentioned. “General Skywalker?”

Thrawn nodded. “She told me that as he owed me a debt he could not repay, it had become her burden. She said she would do what she could for me, but that their own mission was… _fojonali?”_

 _“_ Paramount.”

“Their mission was paramount.” His tone made it clear that he did not begrudge the women their mission in the slightest. “There was some ‘cosmic imbalance’ they needed to correct—something about crystals and a weapon the Empire was building. I had little frame of reference to understand their meaning, and they were disinclined to elaborate.”

Eli swallowed. _Stardust…_

 _"_ They offered to take me with them,” Thrawn explained. “Or to take me as close to my homeworld as possible. But as I was unwilling to disclose the location of the Ascendancy, and unwilling to leave when I thought that remaining would provide the best chance of being recovered by the CDF, there was not much they could do other than leave me some supplies, including a small transistor. There is not much to tell after that.” He tilted his head expectantly. “Did that do anything for you? Because I find myself in much the same state as before I started ‘talking about it.’”

Eli cast him a withering look. “I don’t think it’s supposed to be instant, Mitth’raw’nuruodo: it’s a process.”

“Perhaps the process is ineffective on Chiss,” Thrawn offered.

“Maybe it’s just ineffective on _stubborn people,_ ” Eli countered.

“Is there a difference?” Thrawn asked, earning him a playful shove.

Eli cast Thrawn an amused look over his shoulder as he walked out of the bathroom. "I'll be in the library, you prick."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter title from poem "Is Pain a Memory, Is Pain a Friend?" by Mandy Lee:
> 
> Is pain a memory, is pain a friend?  
> Is this pain real, is it just pretend?  
> Is it a hurt I've lost, or a hurt yet found?  
> Is it just inside, or all around?
> 
> Is it a game, that I've already lost?  
> Is it the price I pay instead, is it the cost?  
> Is it a reminder of what not to do and why?  
> Is it the voice that tells me I shouldn't try?
> 
> Is it to hinder or to lend a helping hand?  
> Is it the reason why my heart won't mend?


	5. "The sense they quicken"

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Eli retreats to his ship to seek the wisdom of an old friend, while Thrawn's meager flashes of returning sense-memory and increasingly disturbing dreams make sleep elusive. It turns out neither man can get a decent night's rest.

** Chapter 5: “The sense they quicken” **

Eli laid back in his bunk in the _Fool’s Hope,_ running his fingers over the now well-worn diary that Thrawn had given to him two and a half years ago. It was such a strange thing to hold an actual book, he thought as he traced the edges of the black leather binding. As he so often did when desperate for some of his friend’s insight, he flipped through the pages, catching glimpses of random words.

And, as inevitably happened, he soon turned to the final page—the last entry:

“ _A friend need not be kept either within sight or within reach. A friend must be allowed the freedom to find and follow his own path. If one is fortunate, those paths will for a time join._ ”

With a sharp exhale of breath, Eli closed the diary, tucking it back under his pillow.

He staggered out of the cabin and into the mainhold of the _Fool’s Hope,_ rubbing the heels of his hands over his eyes. Even a shower and two cups of caf from the synth hadn’t been enough to really wake him up… not that he’d slept much.

He’d been coaching Thrawn in Basic for three months now.

Three months of trying to help this man he had come to see as a friend in his own right while grieving the loss of the man who’d been his most cherished friend for years….

… of having to remind himself that this man was not _his_ Thrawn, did not hold the same trust and affection for Eli that the other had.

…of having to remind himself that this man did not love him… of convincing himself to accept that he likely never would.

As grateful as he was to have Thrawn home safe, Eli could not help his resentment that he’d not been able to stop grieving. Maddeningly, Thrawn’s physical presence in his life had made that grieving process all but impossible. How the hell was he supposed to grieve a man he could talk to? Touch?

And if he couldn't grieve him, how could he be the friend that _this_ Thrawn deserved?

These were questions Eli did not have an answer to yet, and he was beginning to suspect he never would. 

And lingering beneath all that was the hope he could not completely eradicate: that Thrawn’s memories—and _love—_ would return.

The hoping was the most painful part.

The _least_ the universe could do would be to let him get some restful _sleep._

Eli began brewing a fresh pot of caf in the synth, hoping to put off his meeting with Thrass for as long as possible. The Chiss’s frequent debriefs in his office had now begun to include the holo-presence of Admiral Ar’alani. Each time he’d tried to keep his words as vague as possible, unable to quell the sickening feeling that he was spying on his friend.

Eli guessed that Thrass had suspected as much: hence this new tactic of including his commanding officer in the meetings to remind Eli just _why_ he was here in the first place... and that he could be removed if he did not cooperate.

With a frustrated sigh, Eli pushed the button to lower the loading ramp and jumped when he saw Thrawn standing in the hangar beside the ship. His hands were folded behind his back, a somewhat concerned expression on his face.

“Captain Eli'van'to? This is the fifth night in a row you have slept aboard your ship. Are your quarters not satisfactory?” he asked, placing a hand on the boarding ramp.

Eli grimaced, leaning against the hatchway, “No… my quarters are very luxurious, actually.”

“But you are more comfortable sleeping on a ship?” Thrawn observed, nodding at the vessel.

“I am.”

“So am I,” Thrawn admitted.

Eli smiled. “I bet.” He hesitated a moment, then said, “You… haven’t been on the _Fool’s Hope_ since…” he trailed off. Since _ever,_ as far as _this_ Thrawn was concerned. “Would you like to come aboard? It’s nothing special, but—“ he stood aside as Thrawn eagerly ducked past him and into the ship, eying the mainhold with interest.

 _This must be his first time on an Imperial ship,_ Eli realized.

Thrawn surveyed the ship closely. It looked to be a freighter of some kind, but modified slightly: comfort, perhaps? Thrawn moved toward the counter, his hands trailing over the synth, the stacked cups, and the sink. As the scent of fresh caf trailed across his nose, his hand clenched with the ghost of a memory, lingering in the back of his mind like a forgotten word, waiting infuriatingly just on the tip of the tongue.

— _Humans actually_ need _sleep, you know—_

“I have spent some time on this ship,” Thrawn conjectured, looking at the worn-looking bench and small table, an image of Eli drinking caf and scrolling through his datapad flashed before him.

“Not a whole lot,” Eli said. “But yeah… we commandeered it from some pirates, and you decided to hold onto it… fix it up some.”

Thrawn turned to face Eli. “And I gave it to you?”

“Well,” Eli said with a shrug. “You _lent_ it to me.”

 _An unspoken promise to come back…_ the thought flashed unbidden in Thrawn’s mind. He nodded, suddenly feeling an unusual sense of disquiet, his muscles tensing. At a speed that was just shy of rushing, he crossed the mainhold and descended the loading ramp into the hangar bay.

Eli ran after him, the loading ramp retracting behind him. He reached out to touch Thrawn’s arm but thought better of it. With a concerned look on his face, Eli said, “I’m sorry, I should’ve realized it might… impact you.”

Thrawn gave him a blank look and Eli explained, “Being someplace you’ve been, but can’t remember, I mean.”

Thrawn relaxed slightly, looking back at the _Fool’s Hope._ “There were… _yen’hananai_?”

“Sense memories,” Eli supplied in Basic.

“There were sense memories that I could not…”

“Process?”

“Indeed,” he said quietly.

Eli frowned. “I really wish you’d talk to the doctors instead of sending them away every time they show up.”

“I do not need doctors,” Thrawn said simply. “I have you.”

Eli grimaced. He fell into step beside Thrawn as they walked back toward the main house. “Yeah, well I’m not a substitute for a medical professional… as I have already explained to you many times,” he muttered.

“And did it work then? These explanations?” Thrawn asked as they moved through the burgundy hall.

“No…” Eli said ruefully.

“Then there is no reason to expect them to now.”

* * *

Thrawn was standing on the bridge, his hands folded behind his back as he stared out the viewport of the _Chimaera_ at the blue dwarf beyond.

“Sir?”

Thrawn turned to see Lieutenant Commander Eli Vanto passing him a datapad, the left side of his face glowing with the faint, cool light of the nearby star. “I need your signature before I can access those manifests.”

Thrawn arched an eyebrow. “ _Those_ manifests?”

Eli rolled his eyes slightly. “Yes. _Those._ ”

Thrawn accepted the datapad and signed the form with a flourish of his finger. “And, out of curiosity, where is _that_ cargo going?” He turned to give a nod to a Lieutenant as she passed before returning the datapad to the Commander.

“I don’t know, sir,” Eli said, his fingers lingering over the Admiral’s for just a moment longer than necessary. “Because I haven’t seen the full manifests yet. You only just gave me permission, you see.”

Thrawn gave him a knowing look and Eli smiled. “I _may_ have some theories about where they’re comin’ _from_ ,” the Commander admitted. “And there is _no way_ they’re carryin’ what they say they are.” A dark shadow passed over his tan face and Thrawn frowned, turning to the viewport. A huge moon was eclipsing the blue star in the distance.

Except it was moving far too fast to be a moon.

And there were no nearby planets to orbit.

“You don’t see,” Eli said, drawing Thrawn’s eyes away from the viewport. He reached up with his hands and pulled Thrawn’s face down toward his, stroking his cheeks with his thumbs. Eli’s words ghosted over his lips as he whispered, “It’s not enough.”

It was perhaps due to the strange logic of dreams that this intimacy seemed to Thrawn to be the most natural thing in the world at that moment.

In full view of the entire bridge crew, Thrawn wrapped his hands around Eli’s waist to pull him close, leaning forward to close the distance between them. The moment their lips touched, the light of the star beyond became blinding, even overpowering its strange eclipse.

Thrawn could not bring himself to break the kiss even as the transparisteel of the viewport began to crack with a sound like thunder, and a sharp voice called out, “Prepare single reactor ignition and fire when ready!”

Thrawn tasted ash on his lips and pulled back to see Eli smiling sadly at him. The Commander forcibly turned Thrawn’s face back toward the viewport and said, “It will never be enough,” just as the moon unleashed a beam of brilliant green laser fire—fiercer than any turbolaser he’d ever seen—directly at their position.

Thrawn grabbed Eli and held him to his chest as he turned his back to the viewport.

It was an instinctual and futile gesture in the face of complete, pure, inevitable destruction.

Thrawn could still taste ash on his tongue as he awoke, rubbing his fingers over his kiss-tingling lips.

His red eyes shifted to the datapad on his bedside table which he’d been using to fastidiously record his dreams. But this was obviously not a memory, and so there was no point in recording it.

Thrawn sat up in his bed, staring down at his bandaged hands. Even now he could feel his body rebelling against the punishment he’d been meting out to it.

While it had not been his intention, punishment really was the most accurate way to describe his recent training.

Thrawn had been pushing himself too hard, he knew. But when his body reached its limits—pain, fatigue—the constant limits his own mind presented him with fell out of focus.

As Ar’alani had suggested (or rather, as another version of himself had apparently suggested to _her_ ), such exertion might clear his mind of the shadows cloaking the depths of his own subconscious.

If these increasingly disturbing dreams of late were all his subconscious had to show him, then he would find a better use for his time than sleep.

Thrawn quickly slipped out of bed and to the door. As he made his way through the dark hall to his library, he paused in front of Eli'van'to’s bedroom, wondering if he was inside and fast asleep, or in his ship, restless as he himself was….

Wondering what his kiss would really taste like, if not ashes.

* * *

Eli crossed his right arm over his chest in salute as Admiral Am’alana passed him in the hall of the South Wing, and she nodded to him in greeting. Eli turned to watch her leave, a frown forming on his face.

For the past few weeks, Admirals, Captains, and Commodores had begun approaching Thrawn for help with tactical analysis. On the one hand, it seemed to brighten Thrawn’s spirits a little. He liked to be useful and found tactical analysis genuinely enjoyable, Eli knew.

But on the other hand, each meeting was another reminder that he was trapped in his ancestral home for the foreseeable future, and would most likely never serve on a starship again.

Thrawn was, according to the CDF, 'a liability.' 

Eli closed the door behind him as he stepped into the library.

Thrawn was seated at the desk, staring unblinkingly at some holo-image. “I don’t remember my unorthodox methods of analysis being quite so sought after by the rest of the CDF,” he said by way of greeting.

Eli shrugged as he approached. “It can’t be denied your artistic approach gets results, sir.”

Thrawn looked up and Eli winced slightly. “Sorry, it’s just—“ he waved his hand at the desk, covered in small holos of various artworks, “—it’s so much like watching you work when you were my CO. It just slipped out is all.”

Thrawn nodded, looking back down at the holo of a sculpture. If the prominent genitalia were any indication, it was some manner of fertility totem. That, or they were a really well-endowed species, Eli mused to himself.

He frowned slightly, eying Thrawn’s eyes: the usually-blue skin was turning purple around the lower lid, the red glow just a little less brilliant.

“When is the last time you slept?” Eli asked, perching on the edge of the desk to get a better look at the Chiss.

“I thought you weren’t my doctor,” Thrawn pointed out, still not looking away from the holo.

Eli scowled. “If you treat somebody like a doctor long enough, don’t be surprised when they start _acting_ like one. Now stop hedging and answer the damn question.”

Thrawn glanced up at him a moment before returning his gaze to the art. “Approximately forty-seven hours.”

Eli made a disgusted noise. “That’s it—I’m telling Thrass to call that doct—“

Just as Eli’d begun to pull away, Thrawn pulled him back to the desk with a firm grip on his wrist. He clasped Eli’s hand in his and continued to hold it as he said, “Please do not do that, Eli.”

Eli’s breath caught in his chest at the sound of his given name. He looked down at their locked hands and Thrawn released his grip. “Apologies,” Thrawn said, falling back into his chair.

“It’s fine,” Eli said weakly. He swallowed, and said more firmly, “I’m not gonna put you at risk just because you don’t want your brother fussing over you. You had a brain injury that was left untreated for _months:_ you can’t just _not sleep._ If something happened to you, I’d—“ He sighed, and ran his hands frustratedly over his eyes.

Thrawn gathered the holos, returning them to a drawer in his desk. Changing the subject, he said, “I suspect my brother’s hand in this recent uptick in visitations…. He is trying to keep me entertained. Docile.”

Eli frowned. “Don’t be ridiculous, that…” he paused, folding his arms across his chest. “No, wait: on second thought, that does sound exactly like him.”

Thrawn smiled at that. “It does.” With a minute shrug, he added, “Still, these do seem to be genuine campaigns. Hopefully, I can still be of some use, whatever the reasons behind it.”

“They’d be fools not to take you seriously,” Eli said and Thrawn cast him a skeptical look. Eli raised his brows challengingly. “I mean it. I’ve seen what happens when people don’t take you seriously, and it usually ends in a lot of unnecessary death.” He snapped his fingers. “Like, remember when I told you about Umbara, and the vulture droids, and that asshole Admiral Gendling?”

Thrawn nodded.

“Well, I’ve got a dozen more stories like that, about some prick refusing to listen to you for stupid, karked-up reasons, and they all end with _you_ being proved right.”

“I am starting to suspect bias in the narrator,” Thrawn said with an amused glint to his red eyes.

Eli rolled his eyes. “Oh _please_. Like you don’t already know you’re the smartest person in every room you walk into.”

“Oh yes, _doctor:_ you are a paragon of objectivity.” 

Eli smacked him lightly on the arm, “Just get some sleep, you ass.”

Thrawn rubbed lightly at the spot where Eli had touched him, feeling warmth blossom in his chest and beneath his hand.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter title from "Music, When Soft Voices Die" by Percy Bysshe Shelley
> 
> Also, I just wanted to say that my life—like all our lives—is very stressful and often disheartening. I constantly feel like I am a disappointment to my family, friends, and myriad academic/professional people in my life. To be able to have a hobby I truly enjoy to distract me from all that for a few moments each day is joy enough. But seeing that other people appreciate my work in a way I so seldom get to experience anymore in "real life" means so, _so_ much to me. Every time I see a kudos or get to read and respond to a new comment, that joy spills over into my not-Ao3 life and makes that day a little easier to deal with.  
> So to everyone who has read, left kudos or a comment, thank you _so_ much. You have no idea just how happy you've made me. ~~or maybe now you do, idk! I hope so!~~  
>  I've said too much! *recedes back into the shadows*


	6. “My morbid fancy cheer”

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Thrawn realizes that Eli has been keeping him at arms' length, and this realization has more of an impact on him than he would have expected.

Chapter 6: “My morbid fancy cheer”

When Thrawn had first regained his competency in Basic, he found that his dreams became not only more memorable, but more involved. He’d seen himself meeting what must have been Eli'van'to’s parents on a world dominated by skyscrapers that reached miles high. He’d been on a starship, fiddling with battle droids while Eli’van’to sat on a cargo container beside him, not looking up from his datapad when Thrawn would ask him for a hydrospanner. He’d felt the hot wash of air on his face as an explosion tore through a hallway, Eli'van'to diving to pull them both to the ground.

And, as always, he was torn away by explosive blue starlight that still burned his eyes upon waking, or a strange looming orb that left his mouth tasting of ashes.

Often, it was both.

And it was the only part of his dreams that felt real.

Thrawn had seen glimpses of what he knew to be his past life in his dreams. But these nocturnal memories had never felt like things that had happened to _him,_ so much as some other person with his name and face. Recalling these dreams did not feel like remembering something he himself had experienced beyond the scope of sleep.

Sometimes he’d feel a flicker of excitement when Eli’van’to would share a story that he recognized from his dreams; It would always line up perfectly with what he himself had seen. From what he could tell so far, the human had not once deceived or misled him about his past experiences.

The last time Thrawn had told Eli that he had seen something the Human had previously described to him, but with the addition of minutia that had not been included in the original telling, he’d had a strange look on his face. Eli had smiled at Thrawn, but there was a glimmer of sadness in his brown eyes. That look had impacted Thrawn far more than he cared for, filling him with remorse that he could not logically explain.

He stopped sharing these overlaps between his dreams and Eli’van’to’s stories after that.

More troubling, the more time Thrawn spent with the Human in his waking hours, the more he appreciated just how different this version of the man seemed from the one in his dreams.  
  
It was in the eyes, he decided.

In his dreams, Eli'van'to’s eyes were animated and expressive, whether with laughter, anger, or annoyance. Now his eyes seemed muted somehow. In fact, the contrast was so startling that Thrawn found himself avoiding the man’s gaze on more than one occasion, even as he pondered ways to restore that spark.

Eli’van’to’s eyes were like beacons reminding Thrawn that he was only a fragment of who he once was: a part of a whole that was sorely missed.

Logically, he knew he had no reason to feel guilty about that.

But emotions were rarely logical. Least of all, Thrawn was learning, where Eli’van’to was concerned.

It was just another reason to avoid sleep—and the dreams that followed—as much as possible.

* * *

“And they gave Captain Cheno ‘permission’ to retire, but really it was the Navy’s way of relieving him of command without too much of a fuss,” Eli said with a resigned sigh. As usual, he was sitting on one couch in the small library while Thrawn sat across from him on the other.

The Chiss’s face was as dumbfounded as he’d ever seen it. “But that defies all tactical reason," he said in a bewildered tone.

Eli breathed out a laugh as he folded his legs beneath him. “Yeah, that’s what you said then, too. It’s just Navy politics.”

“But…”

“I know. We are in complete agreement,” Eli said conciliatorily, almost feeling like he should get up and give the Chiss a pat on the head and a piece of candy for making him look so glum.

“Such a waste…” Thrawn lamented.

Eli tensed. _Defies all tactical reason…such a waste…_ that was almost verbatim what his Thrawn had said at the time.

Thrawn noticed the sudden stiffness in Eli’s body, but it faded quickly and he did not comment. Suddenly, a Basic word he _knew_ that he knew escaped him. “This seems to be a common… _diro_?”

“Thread.”

“A common _thread_ in these stories.”

“Yeah,” Eli admitted, running a hand through his hair. “It happened quite a bit—especially to you.”

“Because I am not Human?”

“Partially," Eli said. "But also because you not only _resent_ politics, you don’t understand the first thing _about_ it."

“My brother would be inclined to agree with you.” Thrawn tilted his head thoughtfully. “But I had you to help me, did I not?”

The Human gave him a somewhat pitying look. “Colonel Yularen was much more of a help than me. I was pretty much powerless to do anything other than stand there awkwardly and explain why you got screwed over by somebody _after_ the fact. Not much help there.”

The Chiss considered this for a moment. “I’m sure that at least added a sort of… satisfying sense of resolution to the situation.”

Eli cocked an eyebrow. “Even if you can’t avoid a disaster you still like to understand why it’s happening if you can?”

“Don’t you?” Thrawn asked. “Though, I am not convinced there are any disasters which one cannot at least _partially_ mitigate.”

Eli smiled at him.

“What is it?” Thrawn asked.

Eli gave a small shrug. “I was just thinking that you seem to be more fluent in Basic the less you think about it. I know you’ve heard me say ‘tactical’ before, but I don’t think I’ve ever said the word ‘mitigate’ to you, and you just used it perfectly yourself.”

“I might have read it,” Thrawn pointed out.

“That’s true,” Eli conceded. “But that doesn’t mean you would’ve been able to pronounce it correctly, so I still think I’m right.”

“It is an intriguing thought,” Thrawn said, folding his hands across his lap. “Though I do not believe either of us wishes to get our hopes up.”

Eli frowned. “What d’you mean by that?”

Thrawn eyed him thoughtfully for a moment, then said, “I mean that we both hope that I will have my full memories restored to me: that I will once again become the man with whom you served. For my part, because I resent being without information that I feel I ought to have, and more pragmatically, I wish to be allowed to leave this place, and perhaps even rejoin the CDF. And you…” he paused. “You miss your friend.”

“Are we not friends?” Eli asked quietly, unsure he wanted to hear the answer—unsure of _his_ answer.

“Perhaps,” Thrawn said. “But I also think I am a shadow to you—a facsimile of your grief. I think you would perhaps be happier if you too could leave this place.”

Eli’s mouth fell open and he forced it closed, his whole body tensing as he heard Thrawn vocalize what he himself had been ruminating for months. Hesitantly, and very carefully, he asked, “Have I said or done something to make you think I feel that way?”

“Not as such, no,” Thrawn said. “But it is fairly obvious nonetheless.”

Guilt flared up in Eli’s chest, the skin of his chest and face flushing with shame. “Thrawn, that’s… that’s _awful._ I swear I don’t think of you like—”

“Yes you do, Eli’van’to. But do not worry,” Thrawn lied. “I do not take offense.”

* * *

Ar’alani sat across from Eli in Thrass’s office. They were seated in a pair of white armchairs, drinking spiced tea while they waited for Thrass to finish up a call in a nearby parlor. Thrass, he knew, thought the white chairs looked dignified.

Eli just thought they made all the admirals in their white CDF uniforms look like their heads were floating.

“So, Captain,” Ar’alani asked. “How is Mitth’raw’nuruodo’s Basic progressing?”

“Remarkably fast, ma’am,” Eli answered. “I doubt there’s much he could dream about that he wouldn’t understand. At least not linguistically. He used to ask me questions sometimes about odd words he’d heard, but has been doing so less and less.”

“Good,” she said, placing her tea on the table beside her. “And how does he seem to you?”

“Restless… bored out of his mind, ma’am.”

Ar’alani gave him a knowing look. “I am sure. Even when we were both Lieutenants tracking down pirates he always seemed bored. It wasn’t until I saw him commanding an _Imperial_ star destroyer that he seemed somewhat at peace with himself.”

Eli let out a wry laugh. “Yeah, there was no shortage of convoluted and contrived puzzles of Human behavior to keep him entertained.”

The Admiral smiled slightly. “Now he has _you_ to puzzle out.”

“I expect he’s got me mostly figured out at this point, ma’am,” he said with a smile that didn’t reach his eyes.

Ar’alani raised a skeptical eyebrow. “If you say so, Captain.” She tilted her head, carefully eying Eli’s uneasy expression. “What is it?”

Eli fought the urge to wince. “It’s just that I’m worried about him. I think he feels trapped—alienated. I worry he’ll do something extreme if he’s not allowed off the grounds soon.”

Ar’alani waved a dismissive hand. “Now, captain: when has Mitth’raw’nuruodo ever done anything _extreme?_ ”

Eli sighed. “Thanks, ma’am. That’s real comforting.”

“The solution is simple, Captain,” she said as she stood from her chair. “If you believe this ‘alienation’ will lead to ‘extreme behavior,’ then to avoid the extreme behavior, you must eliminate the alienation.” She scowled at the door before leaving the office, doubtlessly in search of Thrass.

Eli grimaced.

 _Well_ , _that’s helpful_.

Though... she may not be that far off base.

She seldom was.

Eli had never been a convincing liar. It shouldn’t be so surprising that Thrawn, insightful as he was, had picked up on Eli’s reticence to allow himself to get too close to this version of Mitth’raw’nuruodo.

Eli could not explain why, exactly… but even the thought that he could begin to care for this version of Thrawn—even half as well as he did his predecessor—terrified him.

But if the price of avoiding confronting that pain was Thrawn’s own— _whatever_ version—then that was something Eli could not accept. 

Something he would _never_ accept.

* * *

After their last Basic lesson had taken something of a depressing turn, Eli declared that they needed a change of scenery.

Hell, _he_ needed a change of scenery.

So today they’d met in the subterranean greenhouses.

The pair walked amidst the dangling purple and green vines, the gentle sound of misting water hissing from the irrigation system in the corners. A fuzzy orange ysalamir scurried across a branch overhead, darting out its tongue at the pair before skittering away between the leaves.

Thrawn was mostly silent as he listened to the story. Eli’s voice was grave as he described the events of Batonn and their suspicions—confident, though never proven—that Arihnda Pryce had been responsible for the egregious and indefensible loss of life.

“I appreciate the intrinsic value of life; I do,” Thrawn said at last. “But why have we not had this Pryce-person killed?”

Eli shrugged. “Don’t look at me _, you’re_ the one who insisted on dealing with her.”

Thrawn frowned, looking down at his feet as they ambled through the various flowers. “That cannot be the whole story.”

Eli furrowed his brow. “What d’you mean?”

“The rational thing to do would have been to leave at that point,” Thrawn explained. “I should have realized after being credited with a slaughter and then promoted because of it that the Empire could never serve as an ally to the Chiss, and that such a despotic regime was in imminent danger of internal collapse.” He paused, folding his hands behind his back as he watched an ysalamir chase a mirror-fly. “There was no reason to stay, so why did I?”

Eli stopped as well, following Thrawn’s red-eyed gaze. In a flash, the ysalamir flicked out its curling purple tongue and sucked the shining fly into its mouth, a satisfied look on its scaly face. “I don’t know, Thrawn. I suppose… maybe because of your exile.”

“Perhaps.” He resumed his slow walk and Eli followed alongside. “But that assumes that serving the Empire and returning to the Ascendancy were the only two options.”

Eli laughed. “What, were you gonna replace Nightswan? Maybe join the Rebels?”

Thrawn smiled wryly. “In the end, I suppose I did, after a fashion.” He glanced at Eli. “Did _you_ ever consider joining the Rebellion?”

Eli hesitated. He’d never even told _his_ Thrawn this. Though, after Eli’s evident disillusionment upon their discovery that the Empire was using slaves to build whatever it was Project Stardust was concealing, the Admiral had decided to teach Eli Cheunh. Eli strongly suspected that Thrawn had recognized his struggle and had wanted to give him an out.

Thrawn was looking at Eli expectantly, his eyes still worn from lack of sleep. The guilt he’d felt when Thrawn told him that he believed Eli would be happier if he didn’t have to see this 'deficient' version of Thrawn daily returned.

So Eli told him what he hadn't told Thrawn before.

“I’ve never told _anyone_ this,” he said hesitantly. “But I did _think_ about it. But there didn’t seem to be much point." _Even if I could have brought myself to leave Thrawn,_ he thought. "If someone like Nightswan couldn’t get any of the different cells to cooperate with each other, I certainly never would’ve been able to.” He let out a dry laugh. “I bet _you_ could’ve.”

“I admit that as you told me this last story, I wondered that very thing myself,” Thrawn said evenly.

Eli frowned, wondering if _his_ Thrawn had considered that, too. If Eli had been brave enough to tell him, to present him with the choice: to turn Eli in as a subversive or _join_ him, what would Thrawn have done? And if he had joined the Rebellion, would they be here on Csilla, struggling with his missing years? Or battling the Empire in the center of the galaxy? Would they have still gotten together?

No, he realized. There was so much that his Thrawn knew that this one just could not. The Grand Admiral’s burden was so, _so_ much heavier than the man before him—or indeed Eli himself —could ever understand. When he'd first allowed himself these thoughts, Eli still hadn't learned about Thrawn's true mission. He could never have _dreamed_ that Thrawn's loyalties had lain elsewhere. Somewhere Eli's own loyalties, if only for love of the man who held them, would follow.

All the same... Rebel Thrawn _was_ an intriguing thought.

As his thoughts raced, Eli watched Thrawn reach up to trace the edges of a starblossom petal with his fingers, the pollen leaving a bioluminescent shimmer on his blue skin as he pulled his hand away.

Eli could not help but feel that this Thrawn, though relatively naïve compared to his Imperial counter-part, _also_ carried the weight of those same burdens… even as he could never fully understand what it was that held him down.

Eli didn’t envy either of them.

“So,” he said before he could stop himself. “Wanna spar?”

Thrawn turned from the blossom he’d been examining and blinked at Eli a few times. Eli raised his brows expectantly at him.

Thrawn smiled and inclined his head. “If you wish, Eli’van’to.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter title from John Keats' poem “To Hope”


	7. “Tonight, something bows that should not bend”

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Eli and Thrass are both increasingly concerned about Thrawn's well-being, though they have very different ways of showing it.  
> Thrawn goes on a fact-finding mission and makes a few discoveries about the circumstances surrounding his retrieval by the CDF, as well as something he was not prepared to learn.

**Chapter 7: “Tonight, something bows**

**that should not bend”**

By now, if Thrawn wasn’t in the library when it was time for their lessons, Eli knew he could be found in the dojo. After introducing the occasional sparring session to their routine these past few weeks, Thrawn’s mood had seemed to improve, if only slightly. Whether it was the additional exertion or the joy of slamming Eli against the mat a couple of times a week, he couldn’t say.

Even so, Thrawn was still training far too hard and for far too long: sometimes, Eli suspected, all night.

He paused just outside the dojo when he heard Thrass say as much, lingering just inside the doorway but not announcing his presence.

Both men could see in the infrared: if they weren’t paying attention to their surroundings, that wasn’t Eli’s fault.

“—hours of the night! What does the boy think of you hurting yourself like this? You know how fragile the Human psyche is!” Thrass hissed at Thrawn as he watched him, yet again, beat his hands raw against his wooden training dummies.

“He is not a boy,” Thrawn said flatly, folding the dummy’s outstretched arms down to its side and turning to face his brother. “He is well into the age of full maturity for his species.”

Thrass snorted. “Checked, did you?”

“I did,” he replied neatly.

Thrass’s mouth widened for a moment, his affront rapidly shifting into an angry glare. “I am _glad_ mother is dead so she can’t see you treating her favorite son like this. I have _another ulcer,_ Thrawn— _a fourth ulcer._ All because _you_ have all the self-preservation instinct of a _snowflake,_ ” he said, jabbing his finger into his brother’s muscular chest before rapidly retracting it and rubbing his finger.

Thrawn pressed his lips into a thin line. When Eli had first met Thrawn, he thought the gesture meant he was upset. Now Eli knew he was trying not to smile. Thrass, judging by his increasingly impatient tone, knew that too.

“If you won’t see sense, I will _burn_ your training dummies!” Thrass threatened. “You _know_ I will; you’ve _seen_ me do it!”

Thrawn shrugged, holding up his hands in a sort of helpless gesture. “I have no idea what you’re talking about," he explained reasonably. "My memories have been compromised, you see.”

Thrass narrowed his eyes. “Oh, really? You don’t remember me destroying your equipment after you broke my nose the day before my debate tournament? In a sparring session? A _sparring_ session! Who _does_ that?! My asshole _brother_ , apparently.”

Thrawn’s face was the picture of innocence. “I do not remember any such thing.” He held up a finger. “But if I _did,_ I would likely remind you that by virtue of your presence _within_ the sparring ring, you’d have necessarily consented to _enter_ said sparring ring, knowing the risks. And that should have guarded your face better. I would expect that after perhaps hypothetically warning you time and again to guard your face to no effect, your devoted younger brother would have been frustrated and thought a more memorable lesson would be beneficial. For your own safety.” He finished, turning away. Turning back briefly he added, “ _If_ I remembered, that is,” before moving to leave the dojo.

“I know you remember that, you prick!” Thrass called after him, still rubbing his stubbed finger.

Thrawn nearly bumped into Eli as he turned the corner, stopping himself just in time. “Oh,” he said, a slightly surprised look on his face. “Good day, Captain Eli’van’to.”

Soon after, Thrass shoved his way past his younger brother before storming down the hall to do whatever it was Thrass did when he wasn’t being driven to distraction by his sibling.

The pair stared after him for a few moments. Eli turned back to face Thrawn and said, “I just wanted to let you know that, yes, I was eavesdropping, and no, I am not sorry because the only thing that could have made _that_ better for me was if I actually got to see you break your brother’s nose.”

Thrawn arched an eyebrow. “It may be difficult,” he said very seriously. “He is always very careful to guard his face these days.”

Eli gave a one-sided shrug. “I bet you could, though.”

“I do not doubt it,” Thrawn said, taking a half step toward Eli. “Would that make you happy, Eli’van’to?”

Eli felt his breath falter at the increased proximity but he ignored it. “It might,” he said, biting back a smile.

Thrawn titled his head, an amused glint in his eyes as he pointed out, “Well, as _I_ am the convalescent perhaps _you_ should offer to break his nose for me instead.”

Eli wasn’t able to stop the smile that broke out at that. “A ‘convalescent,’ huh? And would my doing that make _you_ happy?”

“Decidedly,” Thrawn assured him.

Eli shrugged, muttered, “Alright,” and glanced over his shoulder to call down the hall after the man who’d only just turned the corner at the far end, “Hey, Thrass! C’mere!”

Thrawn’s eyes widened in shock and he pulled Eli by the wrist back into the dojo, shutting the door behind them. He did not release Eli as he admitted, “I did not anticipate you doing that,” a smile twitching at the corners of his mouth.

Eli’s eyes sparkled when he saw Thrawn smile. He reached forward with his free hand to brush the hair that had fallen into Thrawn’s face back over his head and said, “You should always anticipate that I want you to be happy.”

“With violence, if necessary?” Thrawn asked, still holding Eli’s wrist in his steady grip, something deep inside him not willing to let go.

“If necessary,” Eli conceded, gently pulling his hand back and flexing it before folding his arms across his chest. “Now, c’mon. Time to tell you all about that time you decided it was a good idea to involve the Chiss in a bogus Imperial mission because you’ve got an ego the size of Coruscant.”

Thrawn shook his head. “ _That_ does not sound like me at all.”

“Glad to see your sarcasm’s coming along,” Eli sighed, leading Thrawn out of the dojo and back toward the library. 

* * *

Memory was a strange thing, Thrawn thought as he sat in an armchair, fiddling with a frayed thread in the cushion.

He’d returned to the Ancient Chiss philosophers on the topic, of course. Sey’aw’nolo, the father of the Csilla School of philosophy, was largely responsible for the doctrine that memory _was_ identity. A person was the product of their memories: the story of themselves that they composed, remembered, and shared with others.

If your mind could not remember that story, Sey'aw'nolo claimed, it was no longer your burden.

The fact that Sey’aw’nolo’s writings were so influential as to impact the Chiss legal system was what allowed Thrawn to return from his exile without complication.

But Thrawn found his work unconvincing.

At the meeting of Admirals and Syndics in which it was decided Thrawn was not the same Thrawn who had been exiled, he had been about to explain to them why Sey’aw’nolo’s work was largely overrated. He’d only been stopped from doing so by his brother stomping on his foot beneath the table.

Had he _not_ been stopped, Thrawn would have argued that Sey’aw’nolo’s writings were entirely focused upon the mind as a discreet force. His work never made mention of the body, and was thus inadequate.

Because while conscious memories eluded him, Thrawn’s body remembered _many_ things.

His body remembered how to form the words of the Basic language. There were times he could not remember a word but opened his mouth, only to find his tongue forming the word without his bidding.

His body remembered that Eli'van'to was in the habit of walking on his right, and would automatically gravitate toward the left side of the hall when they were together, contrary to Chiss custom.

But more troublingly, he’d noticed his body breaching those unspoken spheres of personal space that existed between people; his hand would move away from his hip as he walked, drawn as if by some magnetic force to brush against Eli'van'to’s.

The instinct had become so overpowering that he’d recently gotten into the habit of keeping his hands folded behind his back or his arms folded across his chest in the Human’s presence.

Was it a difference of custom he’d assimilated while living in the Empire? Perhaps the narrow quarters of a starship combined with whatever cultural differences existed between the Humans and Chiss could account for his hand’s desire to—if only on occasion—seek out the Human’s warmer one? An indication of trust, perhaps?

Thrawn ruminated on this as he lingered in the parlor next to his brother’s office, listening carefully to the conversation next door through a small hole he’d drilled in the baseboard months previously.

Thrass’s lack of attention to security was disturbing, but also rather convenient on select occasions.

Eli'van'to had been summoned to yet another meeting with Thrass to update him on his brother’s progress. These past few weeks, Thrawn noted that Admiral Ar’alani had begun to attend in person. This time, three other Admirals attended as well.

As always, Eli'van'to’s descriptions of the things Thrawn had told him were heavily redacted. The presence of his own CO had done nothing to change that, nor, apparently, had the presence of all these others. Though Thrawn could not see, he could imagine Eli'van'to’s face—neutral and unmovable—and smiled.

It was, Thrawn thought, a largely symbolic stand that Eli'van'to was making. But it was one that he appreciated nonetheless.

He waited for the sound of the door of his brother’s office to latch closed and began to move at a steady pace toward the hangar.

Thrawn eyed the _Fool’s Hope_ appraisingly for a few moments before reaching up a hand to manually extend the boarding ladder. He stepped back as the ladder unfolded itself, landing on the duracreet with a gentle _thud_.

Inspecting the number pad beside the door, he could see the keys that had been more frequently handled than the others—they bore the telltale shimmer of residual organic oils.

Thrawn straightened and considered for a moment. Deciding this was as good a time to test his theory as ever, he closed his eyes, and let his hand linger over the number pad. He could feel his fingers twitch with the residual habit of keying in a certain sequence. Taking a deep breath, he punched in the code that his hand, if not his mind, remembered.

Sey’aw’nolo had been dead for thousands of years.

But proving him wrong was still incredibly satisfying.

* * *

Eli watched the last of the Admirals leave. The moment the door was closed, he spun on Thrass. “Your brother is going absolutely stir-crazy with nothing to do, and these little ‘oh, no, Thrawn! Admiral so-and-so needs your help with such-and-such!’ pity-meetings aren’t doing it for him. You can’t just keep someone like him _locked up._ ”

Thrass held up his hands defensively. “Admittedly, those meetings did _start out_ that way. But these last few weeks I’ve been getting _drowned_ in genuine requests for my brother’s input!”

“It doesn’t matter," Eli said firmly. "It’s still _not enough_."

For a moment, a wounded expression flashed across Thrass’s face. He narrowed his eyes and retorted venomously, “You’re not _enough_ either then, I take it?”

Eli’s jaw clenched. _Okay, that stung_. “I would never claim to be.”

Thrass eyed Eli for a few moments before taking a short breath. “Look," he said levelly. "We still don’t know what has happened to him or who out there might be _looking_ for him. Both the CDF and the best doctors on Csilla have recommended that he _stay put._ ”

“For how long?” Eli demanded. “It’s been _months._ ”

“That they could not tell me,” Thrass said. For the first time, Eli noticed the slightly worn, sleep-deprived look Thrass apparently shared with his brother these days.

Eli exhaled sharply, his vitriol diminishing somewhat. “I’m just worried, alright?”

And without another word, he stood to leave the Syndic’s office.

As he reached the door, Thrass called his name and he turned. “Just…” Thrass hesitated. “I hope you know just what it is you are doing… what you want from this.” Eli frowned, furrowing his brow, and Thrass sighed, an uncharacteristic pleading look to his face. “Just be careful: _please._ ”

Eli held his red-eyed gaze for a moment then left, an uneasy feeling in his chest.

He fumed all the way back to the South Wing, internally muttering about useless Admirals and even more useless doctors. He peeked in the library, but Thrawn wasn’t there. He checked all the bedrooms in the South wing, then doubled back to the dojo in the East, and the kitchens in the North.

When he didn’t find Thrawn in the main library either he started to panic, running up and down the halls, stopping the occasional befuddled-looking servant to ask if they’d seen Mitth’raw’nuruodo.

Finally, a security guard told him that he’d seen the man in the hangar bay. Eli thanked him profusely and took off at a run, hoping against hope that the man would still be there.

* * *

To Thrawn’s satisfaction, the door hissed open. He stepped inside, pressing a button to retract the ladder and lock the door. The lingering scent of the bitter liquid Eli called ‘caf’ lingered in the air, bringing with it a wave of sense-memories. Prepared for it this time, he let them wash over him, not attempting to scramble to hold on to anyone in particular.

There was no doubt in his mind that he’d spent a great deal of time on this freighter. That, or it had been a short amount of time with a very, very great impact.

Thrawn went to the cockpit first, smiling in amusement at the small good-luck charm hanging above the pilot’s chair. It was a star, folded out of blue paper. He supposed it had been made for Eli'van'to by one of the many Navigators he’d heard had taken to the Human captain.

The controls were very different from a Chiss ship, but as Thrawn ghosted his fingers across the control panel, he felt the same muscle-memory-induced twitch in his hands that he had felt while punching in the security code. He nodded to himself, reasonably confident he could fly the ship if it came to it.

Turning back, Thrawn ran his fingers along the bulkhead, passing through the mainhold and toward the aft storage bay. Using the same code as the one that opened the door, he released the hatch. Just in time, he jumped back. The door had swung down, revealing a large work surface, plastered all the way up to the ceiling with flimsiplast maps, charts, and pinned strings.

Thrawn tilted his head as he got a closer look.

There was a large map of the Lothal system and its surrounding hyperspace routes, a chart outlining purrgil mating and migration cycles, and another map of the edges of Wild Space. He picked up one of the holos—it was a news bulletin in Sy Bisti, detailing a transport crash: purrgil were suspected.

The next dozen holos he looked at were much the same: purrgil sightings, fuel depot complications, totaled ships…. Another pair of holos were wanted notices for the rebel Ezra Bridger.

The sheer amount of information collected was _incredible_. Thrawn suspected that if he could look through Eli'van'to’s datapad, it would be even _more_ staggering.

There was a red pin in one of the starmaps; Thrawn recognized it as the very system in which he’d been found by a CDF patrol ship. That explained the mystery of how his meager transistor had been detected by the Chiss, at least.

They’d known precisely where to look.

Beside the map was a small piece of paper, scribbled with what he recognized from his Basic reading lessons to be Eli'van'to’s own handwriting. It said:

**_“For if one is remembered by a friend, one is never truly gone.”_ **

Thrawn trailed his fingers along the words, a thoughtful frown on his face.

Eli'van'to had not been assigned to track him down. He already knew from his conversations with Ar’alani before this tutoring arrangement began that these last two and a half years had been spent by the human on Ar’alani’s cruiser, the _Steadfast,_ pushing back the Grysk on the edges of Chiss space. Neither Ar’alani nor Eli'van'to had ever given Thrawn any indication that he’d been looking for the missing Admiral during that time… and yet here was the clear evidence that he had. And by the looks of things, he may have been the one to deduce his location.

Thrawn shook his head, a subtle smile forming on his lips. _Of course, he had found him… Eli would_ always _find him._

He frowned at the thought that—for a moment—had blared so clearly in his mind as simple fact.

* * *

Eli ran as fast as he could to the hangar, stopping only once his feet reached duracreet. Dazedly, he spun around the large, stone-walled bay. The only ship currently docked was his own.

Had Thrawn finally had enough? Taken a ship? He certainly had the skillset to highjack one if necessary.

Not knowing if he’d find Thrawn himself inside, or if he’d need it to track him down— _again—_ he ran toward the _Fool’s Hope._ With a remote activation, the loading ramp descended.

Panting, Eli sprinted up the ramp and stumbled inside. He spun around the mainhold: a quick glance to his right told him Thrawn was not in the cockpit, so he turned to his left.

His entire body sagged with relief when he saw the man himself, standing with his back to Eli, examining the many maps he’d used to track down his location the year before he’d been found.

“You sneaky son of a Chiss,” Eli wheezed, leaning hard against the bulkhead and panting.

Thrawn did not turn around but continued to stare at the sprawl of information before him. After catching his breath, Eli stepped forward to stand beside Thrawn. He cast a sidelong glance at the Chiss’s face: he looked thoughtful… almost sad.

“I never stopped looking for you,” Eli said quietly. “Even after I was ordered to.”

Thrawn pointed to the red pin in the map. “And you found me.”

Eli grimaced. “Not… officially. _Officially_ , a CDF patrol ship received a report that a Navigator had sensed Grysk activity in the Rakata sector.”

Thrawn’s eyes scanned the various charts and maps and Eli continued, “It was tricky using the information on purrgil to track you because by the accounts I’d heard, they were under the sway of a Jedi but… I figured they’d be heading within a 90-degree cone in a particular direction from Lothal, given witness accounts. And I kept tabs on reports about purrgil activity within the general trajectory, taking into account the diversions in course they’re sometimes known to make,” he said, tracing his finger along the map.

Thrawn glanced at Eli. “It should not have been possible to track that information from Chiss space.”

Eli shifted his feet. “Well… no: you’re right. I may have, um…” He scratched the back of his neck. “Reacted _impulsively_ when we’d heard that you’d disappeared.”

Thrawn cocked an eyebrow and Eli muttered, “I sort of… abandoned my post and took the _Fool’s Hope_ to Lothal. I was very careful not to take anything that could be traced back to the Chiss,” he added hurriedly. “I didn’t even use the original nav charts you gave me when I first left the Empire; I made my own… which is why it took so long to get there and back.”

Thrawn narrowed his eyes slightly. “And you were still promoted to Captain after that?”

Eli sighed. “Yeah, Admiral Ar’alani claimed after the fact that it had been sanctioned… she was very understanding about the whole thing. I owe her a lot.”

“It would seem I do as well,” Thrawn said, turning back to the maps. 

Eli gave him a crooked smile. “You always did.”

“True,” Thrawn conceded with a nod. He pointed to the scrap of handwriting. “What’s this?”

Thrawn noted a marked increase in Eli’s facial glow as he asked, “That?”

“Yes, El’ivant’o, _that_ ,” Thrawn repeated, pointing once more. 

Eli crossed his arms over his chest. “It’s my handwriting.”

“I can see that,” Thrawn said patiently. “Why did you write _that_?”

“Why are you so interested?”

“Why are you avoiding the question?”

Eli exhaled sharply. “It’s just something you said to me. Or, wrote, rather… from your journal,” he added with a murmur.

Thrawn turned to face the Human. “I had a journal?”

“You kept it for about seven or eight years, yeah,” Eli admitted reluctantly, shuffling nervously. 

“Do you have more information from it?” Thrawn asked.

Eli bit his lip. “Well, don’t be mad, but…” another sigh, “I actually have _it._ ”

Thrawn’s eyes flashed. “I kept a journal detailing most of the missing decade of my lost memories and you have _kept it from me_?”

“I wasn’t _keeping_ it from you—“

Thrawn’s voice wasn’t quite angry, but it carried a definite edge. “Then what would you call it?”

Eli winced. He stepped aside and walked toward the cabin. After a moment, Thrawn followed.

Thrawn watched as Eli stepped inside the cabin, reached a hand under his pillow, and pulled out a black leather-bound book. He held it in his hands for a few moments, staring at it as if committing it to memory. “You’re right… I should have given it to you right away. I just…” He looked up, his brown eyes glistening. “I couldn't bring myself to risk your brother or the CDF getting ahold of it…. It’s… it’s all I have left of...” He swallowed and added weakly, “... of him.”

Thrawn returned Eli's gaze a moment, his face bearing an expression that could only be described as _hurt_.

With a firm voice, Thrawn said, “Then I will be careful with it,” as he held out his hand for the book.

Eli hesitated a moment, then surrendered the journal to the hand that wrote it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter title from “Nocturne” by Li-Young Lee
> 
> Did you catch the ancient Chiss philosopher's core name? ;-)  
>  ~~I was so close to making it something vulgar~~
> 
> I also added a cover image to the first chapter, if you're interested.


	8. “My hand remembers”

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Thrawn discovers a surprise in his journal. Eli is determined to give him space, but Thrass has other plans.

**Chapter 8: “My hand remembers”**

Thrawn had immediately read the journal through in its entirety: many times.

These last two days he hadn't done much else.

The fact that it was in Basic puzzled him. First of all, he realized with a faint hint of remorse, he would not have been able to even _read_ it during his first weeks back on Csilla anyway. He would still have been dependent upon Eli'van'to to translate the words for him, thus eliminating any guarantee of objectivity.

But more intriguing was the fact that Thrawn essentially had been a double-agent behind (potential) enemy lines, and he chose to write his journal in the most commonly-understood language in that part of the galaxy.

Eli’van’to could have easily taken the journal and delivered it to an intelligence agency—there were entries describing his own efforts to forestall the Emperor’s “Stardust” project that would have been grounds enough for a firing squad. Thrawn had twice—and quite literally—placed both his words and his life in the Human’s hands.

Who was Eli'van'to to him?

Thrawn had long ago given up on the possibility that he could ever find someone whom he could consider his equal… his friend.

Or _whatever_ it was Eli’van’to was: this alien who’d abandoned his own people to serve Thrawn’s, only to risk expulsion by disobeying direct orders to search for his former commander. Where could Eli have turned to had Ar’alani not had the prescience to keep the man who knew so much about the Ozyly-esehembo within the CDF? _Lied_ to protect him?

Had Eli’van’to even stopped to consider what it would mean to be an exile in both worlds before abandoning his post to chase rumors of purrgil-sightings and shipwrecks in Wild Space? 

Thrawn opened the journal to the final entry, sliding his fingers between the pages to unfold the last page to reveal a sketch that he himself had clearly done: he recognized the use of line… of light.

It was Eli’van’to, reposed upon a bed, naught but sheets tangled about his hips: his face relaxed and content in sleep, an arm slung gracefully above his head.

Perhaps the version of himself who’d drawn this had hoped his art could say what his words could not—what words never could:

That there were no depths to his affection for this Human....

Nor to his grief.

* * *

Eli felt terrible.

And then he felt worse.

He had not strayed from the _Fool’s Hope_ after Thrawn left, journal in hand. Thrawn had already had the journal for two days but had yet to seek Eli out. He did not know how reading the journal would impact the other man, and he didn’t want to intrude. However stressful it was not knowing, Eli was determined to give Thrawn his space.

It was not until he’d heard the anger—the hurt—in Thrawn’s voice that he’d realized just what a betrayal it had been to keep the journal from him.

Stupid of him, really.

Even though Eli could not quite bring himself to think of the man he’d been living with these past months as _his_ Thrawn, he had come to care for him all the same.

He was subtly different than the Thrawn he knew. Maybe it was a product of being on his homeworld among his own people rather than an "alien" among the Empire, but this Thrawn just seemed _younger_ somehow: he made jokes more often, smiled more, _touched_ more. And he struggled more… or more likely: he _showed_ that struggle more.

Now, with the journal gone and Thrawn avoiding him, Eli felt like he’d lost them both all over again.

And both losses hurt.

Eli wandered around the ship, making spot repairs, hoping to distract himself by taking things apart and putting them back together again.

Just as he was pulling out the power converters to give them a completely unnecessary tune-up, Thrass’s voice sounded behind him, making him jump.

“Is doing ship-repair shirtless a Human custom?” the Syndic asked drily.

Eli clenched his jaw, not turning to look at Thrass as he shoved the power-converter back into his chassis. “If you don’t wanna get oil on your clothes, then _yes._ ”

Thrass sighed loudly. “As interesting as this is I must confess I do not actually care.”

With a sharp exhale, Eli ducked out from beneath the ship and turned to face the Chiss. “Then what can I do for you, Syndic?”

“My brother has locked himself inside his quarters and had not left for two days,” Thrass said.

“Well,” Eli said reasonably. “Have you tried _knocking_?”

Thrass shot him a withering look. “There’s that genius we’d all been promised: yes, Eli’van’to, _I knocked._ ”

Eli shrugged. “He’s an adult, he’s entitled to hole up in his rooms if he wants,” he said with an indifference that was, apparently, unconvincing to say the least.

Thrass stared at Eli for several, long moments. “You have been complaining vociferously about Mitth’raw’nuruodo’s ennui for some time now, Eli’van’to," he said tightly. "Now you do not care, and find it more important to work on a ship you have no need to _use._ ” When Eli opened his mouth to object, Thrass plowed onward, “And before _that_ you would never _shut up_ about the fucking _space whales,_ and then when my brother finally _does_ return home, you treat him as if you _hadn’t_ been obsessing over his disappearance for a year. I am beginning to suspect that you are not, as I originally feared, a good representation of your species and are actually a uniquely and frustratingly absurd person.”

“Mitth’raw’nuruodo knows where I am,” Eli said simply, narrowing his eyes.

Just as he began to return to his repairs, Thrass shook his head and said, “What my brother ever saw in you I will _never_ know. It must be the naked ship-repair; it certainly can’t be your character. So tell me, Captain: _are_ you largely ornamental? Or will you actually be contributing to our efforts at some point.”

Eli took a step forward, nudging Thrass in the chest with a hydrospanner. “What makes you think I _won’t_ kick your ass?”

“Because if you cared enough to ‘kick my ass,’—“ Thrass repeated the phrase with visible disdain, “—you wouldn’t _be in here,_ gallivanting about in the nude.”

“Ah,” Eli said sardonically. “I suddenly get _why_ Thrawn _left_ the Ascendancy. It’s all coming together.”

“And I can see why he saw fit to send _you_ away to grace _us all_ with your Human presence instead of keeping you with _him_ ,” Thrass retorted. “Oh, _joy of my joys_.”

“You know what?” Eli snapped, tossing the hydrospanner to the ground with a **_clang_** and bending down to retrieve his shirt, tugging it over his head. “Fine.”

And without another look at Thrass, he stomped out of the hangar to do the thing he promised himself he wouldn’t do.

Intrude.

* * *

After approximately eight minutes of repeatedly raising his fist to knock only to retract it, Eli knocked on the door to Thrawn’s chambers. When there was no answer or sign of movement, he tried the handle and found it unlocked. He discreetly peeked his head inside, but saw no sign of Thrawn. “Mitth’raw’nuruodo?” He called through the crack in the door, but there was no answer.

Frowning, he moved over to the library door, finding this one locked, and knocked.

Again, no answer.

“Thrawn?” Eli called more loudly.

Still, no answer.

Panic and guilt flooded his chest. What the hell had he been thinking: giving him _space?_ Thrawn had suffered a _traumatic brain injury:_ he could have fallen, gotten confused, or worse. Without another moment’s hesitation, Eli stepped back and aimed a well-placed kick to the door, splintering the wood as it swung forward, dislodged from the top hinge.

Thrawn was sitting on top of his desk, the journal open on his lap, staring at the broken door as it creaked feebly on two of its three hinges.

Eli flushed a deep shade of red. He glanced down at the door. “Your brother was worried about you," he said weakly.

“Was he afraid the door would attack?” Thrawn asked with an arched eyebrow. “Because I have had it explained to me several times that the Chiss as a whole do not approve of preemptive strikes.”

“Uh… right…sorry…” Eli turned to close the door as best he could. He did manage to get it to click back into place, and it certainly seemed to function like a door again. Turning back to Thrawn, he coughed lightly, shuffling his feet. “You uh…” he began awkwardly. “You read it all, then?”

“I did,” Thrawn said, unfolding his legs to stand from the desk. He held up the journal in one hand and said, “This is not a journal.”

Eli frowned. “Then what is it?”

“It is a letter,” he answered. “A letter that I wrote _to you._ ”

Eli smiled patiently at him. “You’d kept that thing for nearly a decade. I doubt you were thinkin’ of me the entire time.”

Thrawn flipped to the final entry, and read aloud:

“ _It is said that one should keep one’s allies within view, and one’s enemies within reach. A valid statement. One must be able to read an ally’s strengths, so as to determine how best to use him. One must similarly be able to read an enemy’s weaknesses, so as to determine how best to defeat him. But what of friends? There is no accepted answer, perhaps because true friendship is so exceedingly rare. But I have formulated my own—_ “

Eli cut him off and completed the passage from memory: “ _A friend need not be kept either within sight or within reach. A friend must be allowed the freedom to find and follow his own path. If one is fortunate, those paths will for a time join. But if the paths separate, it is comforting to know that a friend still graces the universe with his skills, and his viewpoint, and his presence. For if one is remembered by a friend, one is never truly gone._ ”

Thrawn’s expression stiffened as he stared at Eli. With that curiously Human gesture he sometimes made—a rolling of his eyes—Eli said, “Alright, maybe you _were_ thinking about me toward the end there.” Eli tilted his head. “But are you saying you _knew_ you were gonna send me to the CDF the entire time? That you were gonna give me a journal to bring with me?”

Thrawn tossed the journal onto the desk and took a step toward Eli, his hands falling loosely at his sides. “Perhaps… perhaps not. A letter is not always written with the intent to send it.”

“Wow,” Eli said, giving the man a wry smile. “Now _that_ is a Thrawn axiom for the ages.”

“You are deflecting,” Thrawn said, his voice low.

“I am not deflecting,” Eli said, his voice going slightly high. “There is nothing to deflect. I was just worried, is all, but you’re fine and it’s fine and—“

“Who are you to me, Eli'van'to?” Thrawn asked simply.

Eli’s face stiffened. “You tell me.”

“I cannot,” Thrawn said softly, “I do not remember.”

Eli’s gave him a sad smile. “’Who _were_ you to me,’ is what you meant, then.”

“I meant what I said.” Thrawn tilted his head and added, “The fact that the memories cannot surface does not preclude their existence. The body can hold many memories that the mind may, for whatever reason, conceal.”

Eli’s mouth twisted into a frown. “What, like muscle-memory, you mean?”

“That is but one example,” Thrawn said, taking a step forward. “A person might not remember learning to play the _ss’tek’ato_ , but still their hands move unbidden across the correct sequence of keys to make music. Likewise, I do not remember learning Basic, but my mouth remembers how to form the phonemes, making the relearning process far easier. But it is not only the muscles that remember. The skin might prickle and the stomach clench in a fear-response to certain stimuli, though one does not remember ever _being_ afraid of the stimulus in question.”

Eli eyed the Chiss with careful consideration. “I see… and is there anything your body remembers being afraid of that your mind doesn’t?”

“Yes,” Thrawn said, taking another step forward. “But my body does not remember fear alone. There are many emotions remembered by the flesh.”

Eli’s own body thrummed with the need to demand: _what emotions? Does your body remember_ me? But at the same time, he was so terrified of the answer—be it yes _or_ no—that he could not bring himself to ask. Instead, he only said, “That is certainly an interesting theory,” stepping around Thrawn to gaze at the painting, desperate to look at anything other than those red eyes.

Eli heard Thrawn turn to face him, could feel his eyes on him as he stared at the brushstrokes, getting that same uncanny, sad feeling he had every time he looked at it closely.

He breathed out a laugh. Without looking at Thrawn he said, “You know, when I first saw it I thought that _you’d_ painted it… but when you said the artist was a Navigator, I…” he trailed off and turned to look at Thrawn.

Thrawn looked back at him with that same, subdued intensity.

“You _did_ paint this, didn’t you?” Eli asked quietly.

“I did,” Thrawn admitted.

“You never told me you were a Navigator,” Eli said, his voice now barely a whisper as his eyes returned to the painting. _Either of you._

“I did not think I had, but I couldn’t be sure,” Thrawn said.

Eli laughed humorlessly, glancing over his shoulder at Thrawn. “It was a test, wasn’t it? You wanted to know if you’d trusted me enough to tell me?” With a mutter he added, "Guess you didn't."

Thrawn hesitated a moment, moving toward Eli until he was so close he could feel the Human’s body heat radiating against his chest. “It was a test, but not for you. It is not something I’ve ever known myself to speak of. I was curious if that had changed… but it must not have.” He opened and closed his mouth slightly as if he had been about to add something more, but reconsidered.

Eli shook his head, disappointed in himself for not figuring it out sooner, and even more disappointed that he'd not been trusted with that knowledge.

They'd both been withholding information, he supposed.

Eli tried to keep the hurt from his voice as he asked, "That’s why Ar’alani wouldn’t let a Navigator try Second Sight, then: _you_ had it, too.”

"I did," Thrawn said. "To what extent a 'retired' Navigator retains the peculiar vulnerabilities associated with Second Sight is not yet well understood by my people. It would have been too great a risk to endanger an active Navigator by melding our minds, as Ar'alani well knew."

Eli spun around to face Thrawn, his heart rate quickening with sudden realization. “That’s what happened, isn’t it—Ezra Bridger—he forced his way into your mind and you…” his face fell. “You got lost.”

“Yes,” Thrawn said. “But you have not answered my question.” He reached a hand forward, lifting Eli’s chin up with his fingers. “Who were you to me, Eli'van'to? I need to hear you say it.”

Eli’s eyes widened, finding himself either unable or unwilling to remove himself from Thrawn’s gentle grasp and not knowing which. “You were my commander: I was your aide,” he said feebly.

Thrawn shook his head, tightening his grip ever-so-slightly on Eli’s chin. “Try again.”

“We were friends—“ Eli let out a soft gasp as Thrawn ran his thumb over his bottom lip.

“Then why does my body remember you, Eli?” Thrawn asked, feeling Eli’s shaky breath tickle his hand as he continued to trace the Human’s lip with his thumb, testing the soft give of warm flesh. “I know what you were to me: what you _must_ have been for me to entrust you with my world… my words… everything.” He cradled Eli’s face in his hands and whispered, “I need to know: Did you love me back?”

“Yes,” Eli gasped, the word barely out of his mouth before Thrawn’s lips were on his, his arms wrapping tightly around his back, holding him steady. Those arms were the only thing holding him upright as he melted into the familiarity of his lover’s mouth against his, the hard planes of his chest solid beneath his hands.

_But it was all wrong._

With a great effort, Eli pulled back, whispering, “Please… don’t,” as he gently pushed the Chiss away, taking a few quick steps back. “I can’t do this.”

Thrawn’s hands stiffened before releasing Eli and falling to his sides. “You can: I am right here,” he said.

Eli shook his head, “You think you’re supposed to love me but you don’t know _why._ ”

“That only means that I chose you _twice_ ,” Thrawn said, his voice a low growl of urgency. “Does that mean _nothing_ to you?”

Eli hesitated. “I don’t know that you have. I believe that you want me… but that’s not the same. I can’t do this to you... or to myself.”

“I could love you,” Thrawn insisted, his red eyes blazing. “You do not know that I don’t—”

“Then _when_ , Mitth’raw’nuruodo?” Eli asked, his voice strained. “Did you fall in love with me _after_ getting to know me? Or is it just leftover feelings that you don’t understand? _Tell me!_ ” he demanded, his voice cracking. 

Thrawn gaped at him a minute before admitting, “I do not know.”

Eli gave him a sad smile, “I know you don’t.”

With a shaky, shallow breath, Eli forced himself to turn away from the body that called to his like music. He made a silent prayer of thanks that the door still functioned as he slipped through it, ignoring the concerned servants doubtlessly drawn by the earlier commotion to return to the familiar solitude of his ship, leaving Thrawn alone once more.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The italicized text of the diary entry comes straight from the Thrawn novel.
> 
> Chapter title from “The Aureole” by Nikky Finney
> 
> Did anyone already guess Thrawn had painted the painting?
> 
> I personally don't head-canon Thrawn as a Navigator (Thrass, maybe), but I have made him so just for the purposes of this story.


	9. “What is living is fugitive”

After kissing—and rejecting—Mitth’raw’nuruodo, Eli had locked himself away in the _Fool’s Hope,_ manually locking the door from the inside. He did not know what he would do, or what this Thrawn would do, but Eli was physically incapable of dwelling on it for more than two minutes without punching the bulkhead. More than once, he’d found his hand sliding beneath his pillow for the familiar leather of Thrawn’s journal, but of course it was no longer there.

 _He_ had it now.

The trill of his comlink drew Eli out of his thoughts. He raised his wrist to his mouth and croaked in Cheunh, “Captain Eli’van’to.”

“ _Admiral Ar’alani. Where are you presently, Captain?”_

“I’m in the hangar bay of the Mitth estate, ma’am.”

“ _Ah… in that ship of yours, I take it?”_

“Yes, ma’am.”

“And is Mitth’raw’nuruodo with you?”

Eli frowned. “No, he is not.”

 _“That is unfortunate, because he’s not_ here _, either. And a speeder is missing.”_

Eli felt his heart drop into his stomach. “I’ll be right there, ma’am.”

He found both Thrass and the Admiral in the main hall surrounded by milling servants, security guards, and CDF officers.

He saluted Ar’alani as he approached. Thrass was staring at the Human with open contempt, as if he knew it was his fault his brother had run off.

And for once, Eli was inclined to agree with him.

“Eli’van’to,” Thrass said coolly. “Do you know what could have motivated my brother to disobey orders to remain on the property? Something to do with why the door to his library won’t _close properly,_ perhaps?”

Eli ignored him, turning instead to the Admiral. “Are you sure he’s not here, ma’am?” he asked, a frantic tinge to his voice. “It’s possible he could be evading whoever’s searching by slipping into an area once it’s already been checked.”

Ar’alani eyed him for a moment the pulled up her comlink to her mouth. “We’re doing another search—divide each group into two, the second shadowing the first after a thirty-second interval.”

Eli gave her a grateful look before running at full speed toward the library. He pushed through the door and ran to the center of the room, spinning frantically around as he looked for any sign of Mitth’raw’nuruodo, any hint of where he might be now. He was hit with a pang of regret when he noticed the journal lying open on Thrawn’s desk.

His eyes automatically gravitated upward to the painting, but saw only blank wall.

A strange smell hit him and he sniffed, wrinkling his nose. It smelled like… a faulty blaster being discharged. Eli heard the crackle of flames and turned to the fireplace, his eyes widening with horror when he saw the painting had been snapped in half and shoved inside, flames licking at the frame. 

“Oh, no, _no_ …” he muttered helplessly as he ran to the fireplace, falling to his knees and desperately dragging the damaged canvas from the fire. He patted out the little flames with his hands, his eyes combing the damage.

Gently, Eli pushed a peeling swath of paint back into place, only to have it break off entirely.

It really had been a beautiful painting.

The melancholy that always filled Eli when he looked upon the work surged in him now at the sight of its destruction. Hot tears fell on the damaged canvas, splashing the charred surface like distant swirling galaxies in the dark of space. 

Eli’s face and throat burned with grief and shame the longer he stared at the faint traces of blue paint lingering beneath the burn-damage.

Until Thrawn had told him the work had been done by a Navigator, Eli had been certain the man himself had painted it.

Eli had known from day one this had been painted by Mitth’raw’nuruodo because he had seen _his Thrawn_ in its brushstrokes.

He had clung so tightly to the increasingly ideal vision of the man he’d loved that he’d refused to see the man there in front of him, as desperate for Eli as he was Thrawn.

A quick, rapping knock on the doorframe sounded from behind him. Eli hurriedly wiped his eyes with his sleeve and turned to see Ar’alani and Thrass in the doorway, a man Eli vaguely recognized as a guard behind her.

Ar’alani’s eyes were focused on the Commander’s; Thrass’s were wide, staring at the ruined painting at Eli’s knees.

“Captain. According to this man,” she jerked her head at the man behind her, “the missing speeder has been spotted moving toward the Capital.”

Eli frowned. “But why? He wouldn’t just take a speeder for no reason.”

“He could be taking the speeder to a spaceport,” Thrass pointed out, looking away from the painting at last. 

Eli shook his head. “Unless he plans on kidnapping a Navigator, which I don’t think he would ever do, he can’t get too…” he trailed off, panic welling in his stomach.

Oh, _shit._

Eli jumped to his feet, pushed past the Chiss and ran back to the hangar bay, Admiral Ar’alani and Thrass both close on his heels.

The trio made it to the hangar just in time to see the _Fool’s Hope—_ the only ship on all of Csilla with a programmable nav computer—rising far above the open ceiling, freezing wind whipping their hair back from their faces.

Ar’alani did not hesitate. She immediately raised her wrist to her mouth to begin barking orders into her comm. _“_ Disable that ship, _now!_ I repeat, _disable_ the ship _,_ do not destroy!”

Eli stared up at the open hangar bay ceiling. It was too late, he knew. _Such an idiot_ , he cursed himself. Thrawn’s loyalty to his people was too acute to ever endanger one of the Ozyly-esehembo, and the _Fool’s Hope_ was the only ship with a nav computer that did not require the assistance of one of the Force-sensitive children to direct it through hyperspace.

Wherever Thrawn was taking the ship would be slow going… but he’d get there.

The moment he’d heard one of the snow-speeders was missing, Eli realized what had happened. Thrawn had rewired a speeder to autopilot, programming it to provide a diversion, to make it seem as though he’d left the Mitth compound. In the ensuing panic, Eli would, of course, be called away from his self-imposed solitude to aid in the search, leaving his ship available.

How long had Thrawn been lingering in the hangar, mere yards away from Eli while he waited for the Human to leave his ship before resorting to the trick, he wondered. He almost had to laugh. It was so classically Thrawn… Eli was just used to pirates and rebels being on the receiving end of these tricks, not himself.

Had Eli’s rejection been so unbearable he couldn’t tolerate being in the same system as the man? Or had the steadily-building agony of being trapped, sentenced to a life of pointlessness and boredom finally become too much to bear?

Eli’s chest felt hollow as he broke his eyes away from the hangar bay doors at long last, turning back toward the main house.

In all honesty, he would have taken Thrawn away himself if the Chiss had only asked…

But of course, he hadn’t.

Why would he?

And if Mitth’raw’nuruodo didn’t _want_ to be found, well….

Eli could hardly hear Thrass and Ar’alani’s argument as he pushed through the doors to the main hall. He couldn’t hear whatever the other Admirals were asking him, and so he didn’t stop to answer their questions as he made his way to the South wing.

With the dull roaring in his ears, he couldn’t hear much at all.

* * *

Thrawn sat tucked behind a repair bench and a stack of boxes, staring at the _Fool’s Hope_ through a narrow gap. Eli'van'to had been holed up inside for over a day and it was starting to seem like he would never leave.

And if his plan were to succeed, that would not do.

Checking first that he was alone in the hangar bay, Thrawn slipped into one of the speeders and tore off the control panel. He stripped a wire with his teeth and set to work, programming the nav system to guide the speeder to the spaceport in the Capital city.

He carefully snuck back to his hiding place as the speeder whirred to life. The large doors that had been programmed to open automatically for convenience lifted just long enough for the speeder to break free.

A few minutes later, the boarding ramp of the _Fool’s Hope descended_ and Eli'van'to stepped out of the hatch. He gave the hangar a cursory glance before taking the ramp at a leap, running for the doors to the main house.

The sight of the Human—the fear and pain on his face—only served to heighten Thrawn's resolve. As soon as he heard the door close, he made to move for the ship but paused as a group of security guards ran into the hangar bay. Keeping low, he waited them out before running to the loading ramp.

Eli'van'to, thankfully, had not changed the passcode. Thrawn retracted the ramp and locked the door manually behind him before heading to the cockpit and slipping into the pilot’s chair.

Just as he’d tested before, his hands seemed to be able to go through the motions of lift-off without him. And, as he’d hoped, the hangar-bay doors had been programmed to allow the Captain’s ship free passage, opening automatically above him the moment he started the engines. As a Captain of the CDF, it was likely Eli'van'to’s personal ship would not set off any alarms in the planetary defense grid, either.

With a deep breath, Thrawn pulled back on the yoke, carefully and quickly guiding the ship into the indigo sky above.

Once Thrawn had plotted the course he’d calculated weeks ago into the nav computer and allowed his hands to guide him through the once-familiar process of jumping to hyperspace, the stars were replaced first by lines then blue waves. A feeling of calm overtook him as he watched the colors shift, blue melting into white into blue.

Thrawn glanced at the nav computer: It would take nearly sixteen hours to reach his destination. In the meantime, he opted to finish his exploration of the ship. His eyes lingered over the spot where he knew the maps and charts Eli'van'to had used to track him down were stowed away before moving back toward the cabin.

He pushed a button and the door opened with a hiss, revealing a large bed. Well, large for a ship, anyway—double the size of a standard bunk. Eli'van'to had pushed multiple beds together, he’d supposed: just one of the many customizations on the vessel.

If the rest of the ship bore the faint traces of Eli'van'to’s scent, Thrawn thought, then this cabin was like Eli'van'to concentrate. A not-unpleasant tingle ran over the skin of his arms and neck as he breathed it in. He took a seat on the mattress, bouncing experimentally. It was uncomfortable in a way that was soothing in its familiarity, the dull thrum of the ship’s engine lulling him into a state of deep relaxation.

Suddenly, his exhaustion from lack of sleep caught up with him. He let himself fall back onto the bed, the scent of Eli'van'to carrying him gently into a deep, restful sleep for the first time in months.

Unremembered by Thrawn, it was the first time in years… not having slept soundly since Eli Vanto had disappeared from his life.


	10. “As you swallow me”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Contains light alcohol consumption, and R-rated sexual content (It will be clearly marked). It is what I see as R-rated [M] as opposed to X-rated [E] but it certainly does toe that line.  
> If it's not for you, proceed onward with the link given within the text!

Eli locked himself in the library as best as he could with a broken door. He sat at Thrawn’s desk and leaned back, closing his eyes as he examined the facts.

The _Fool's Hope's_ nav computer had not been pre-programmed, and its history had been erased.

It would have been possible for the Thrawn who remembered his time in the Empire to slice it and recover the route Eli had taken to Lothal, at least.

But if he’d been planning this as a contingency for some time—and knowing Thrawn, he _had_ —he could have taken the time to manually compute a course to almost _anywhere_.

Eli’s eyes snapped open and he sprung forward in the chair, pulling open drawers and searching for evidence of astrogational computations. There was nothing. He let out a frustrated breath, causing the hair that hung in his eyes to flutter briefly.

Eli may not be able to replicate Thrawn’s computations exactly, but he could use his knowledge of the limited number of stable hyperspace lanes in Chiss space to narrow it down. From there, it was a matter of determining Thrawn’s motivation. 

Thrawn would not have fracked off into hyperspace with no purpose: Eli was sure of it. The man was not one to steal a ship and take it on a joyride, no matter how upset he was.

Eli’s stomach clenched, his heart fluttering with panic. Had he returned to the Empire? Now that he’d read about his mission history in his journal, had he decided that Project Stardust was too high a threat to the Ascendancy to allow it to continue?

No… Eli twisted his mouth in thought, that wasn’t it. From their recent conversations, he knew that Thrawn believed that the Empire was ultimately self-defeating even _without_ the Death Star—that the Emperor’s despotism would lead to collapse of his regime. In this Thrawn’s mind, the long-term benefit of assisting the Empire was nil, and more importantly, the threat to the Chiss was minimal. 

The only other motivation that seemed plausible was Thrawn’s desire to restore his lost memories. Eli had seen him have a strong reaction to being on the _Fool’s Hope._ Perhaps Thrawn thought returning to Imperial space would help him recover what he’d lost?

Eli twisted his face into a pensive frown, dismissing the thought. Surely Thrawn realized that if he were found by Imperial forces, he risked the Emperor deeming the Ascendency an immediate threat and moving against them? Even if the Galactic Empire were doomed to collapse, they could still do a great deal of damage in a short span of time _if_ properly motivated.

And Thrawn always had a talent for bringing that sort of thing out in people, Eli thought ruefully.

More fundamentally, being near the wreckage of the _Chimaera_ on Rakata Prime had not been enough to stoke his memories, Eli recalled. And if any location could stoke Thrawn’s memories, it would be his star destroyer.

And if any _person_ could, well…

Eli sank into the chair, his shoulders sagging. He closed his eyes in a silent prayer that the CDF would be able to pick up Thrawn’s trail before it went somewhere the Chiss could not safely follow.

Eli’s brow furrowed.

Perhaps it wasn’t a location Thrawn was seeking after all, but a _person_. Had he decided to seek out one of those Jedi, thinking that since Bridger’s mental invasion had _caused_ his memory loss, that they might have the best chance of restoring it? _Could_ they even help him? And more to the point, _would_ they?

Thrawn _had_ said that one of them believed herself indebted to him….

Even so, it seemed like far too great a risk to Eli. But then, Thrawn was hardly shy when it came to taking risks.

But where was this Jedi now?

Eli steepled his fingers over his face and closed his eyes, his mind rapidly cycling through the facts Thrawn had provided him with:

…Ezra Bridger and Ahsoka…

_...crystals..._

_…restore balance…_

_… a weapon terrible enough to cause that imbalance…_

_…somewhere on the edges of Unknown Space…._

_…Stardust…_

_…cargo manifests…_

_…shipping routes…_

_…pirate attacks…_

_…innocuous materials concealing something else, something volatile…_

_…a power source…_

_…kyber…_

_…Jedi…_

_…balance…_

Eli's brown eyes snapped open. He knew where the Jedi had gone to restore balance.

Where Thrawn was going to risk everything to restore his own.

_Ilum._

Eli reached into the desk and pulled out a datapad to begin calculating the route, hoping against hope that if the CDF wouldn’t allow him to take one of the Ozyly-esehembo, they’d at least let him take a ship and rewire its nav computer… or _try_ to.

* * *

As the _Fool’s Hope_ approached its destination, Thrawn laid awake in the bed _,_ staring at the ceiling. He’d finally slept restfully for more than an hour. As he usually did on those rare occasions when he was able to sleep these days, he’d experienced another memory… or dream… or memory distorted by imagination.

Was it a fantasy fueled by his surroundings? Or a sense-memory induced by the scent of Eli'van'to? The feel of his sheets beneath his skin?

There was no way to know the difference because even if he were inclined to contact the Mitth estate, he would not be willing to ask the only person who _would_ know.

Not about this.

Not after everything.

This dream had been far more intense than the others—upon remembering, it had more of the feel of a lived memory than the mere recollection of a dream.

In it, Thrawn had been leaning against the small table in the mainhold of the _Fool’s Hope._ The ship was docked in the hangar bay of the _Chimaera,_ he knew, as he ran and re-ran through plans with Eli Vanto.

The Lieutenant Commander was standing in front of a holo-map precisely where the map of the Lothal system now hung, his face one of tolerant amusement. They had already been over this plan many, many times.

It was the _last_ plan.

With a loud, dramatic sigh, Eli pulled out a carafe of Corellian whiskey from a storage crate by his feet. “Okay, we’re done, sir.”

Thrawn stopped halfway through his reminders about CDF patrol protocols, and watched with a raised eyebrow as the Human poured the deep, burgundy liquor into two glasses. Eli stepped forward and handed one to Thrawn, raising his own in cheers. With an ironic tone, he said, “To my long life.”

Thrawn gave him a rare smile and clinked their glasses together before taking a small sip, warmth instantly blossoming in his mouth and throat.

Eli looked down at his own glass, swirling the red liquid for a moment before asking hesitantly, “Are you... ever gonna go back, sir?”

“My exile was contrived, but still official. It may not be possible for me to return to Csilla without grave repercussions. As I have explained, the political situation is... fraught,” Thrawn said simply, taking a deep sip of his drink.

“Right...” Eli sighed, taking another sip of whiskey. There seemed to be some internal battle waging behind those expressive brown eyes.

“It’s not too late to stay, Eli,” Thrawn said, calling him by the name he’d not used since their Academy days.

Eli’s eyes widened and he looked up, swallowing dryly. “No, I’m fine, sir.”

Thrawn tilted his head, eying his aide appraisingly. “You are not fine.”

Doubtlessly cursing the man’s observational skills, Eli hedged, “Just worried, is all.”

“About what?” Thrawn persisted.

Eli exhaled sharply. “About _you,_ Thrawn!” Thrawn arched an eyebrow as Eli’s words tumbled out of his mouth in a rush, his Wild Space accent thickening with emotion, “I’m worried that without me here to look after you, you’re finally gonna do something really _stupid,_ and get yourself _killed._ ” His glass hovering in front of his lips, Eli added a muted “sir” before draining the liquor.

Thrawn’s mouth parted slightly. This man was about to embark on a journey to fake his death; to leave everything and everyone he knew—his family, his friends—to serve a people he did not know, a people who (foolishly) would never see him as an equal, and he was worried about _Thrawn_?

He smiled.

 _Of course_ he was: because that’s just who Eli _was_.

“Eli Vanto,” Thrawn said softly. “You are truly an extraordinary individual and I am honored to have your friendship. It has been one of the great privileges of my life to know you, learn from you, and serve beside you.” 

Eli’s facial glow increased, his grip on his glass tightening as he forced himself to stare at it, rather than the man across from him.

After a minute of silence, the Human moistened his lips with his tongue and met Thrawn’s red eyes. His eyes flashed with determination and, switching to Cheunh, he said, “I’m honored to have held your words in my hands, Mitth'raw'nuruodo. I only wish that you could come with me, to hold mine in yours.”

Thrawn’s breath caught in his chest. Having taught Eli about Chiss culture and Cheunh language for several months now, he knew that Eli recognized the significance of those words. The Human knew just how momentous it was to hold someone’s words in their hands… to express the desire to have their own held in another’s.

Thrawn had long suspected that Eli returned his affections, but could never be certain enough to risk everything they already had. And more fundamentally, while Thrawn himself saw Eli as his equal, the reality of the world around them was that he was an Admiral, and Eli his subordinate.

If this relationship were to change course, Eli would have to be the one to direct it there.

And he just had. 

Thrawn placed his glass on the table, and reached out to Eli, drawing him toward him by his hand. After taking Eli’s glass and setting it beside his own, he leaned forward, pressing their foreheads together.

They stayed like that for a long time, their breath melding together. Thrawn tightened his grip on Eli’s arms even as he forced himself to remember that this was for the best. That Eli’s noble heart would never be able to survive in this increasingly-cruel Empire. That every powerful political enemy the Chiss made was a knife in the dark, hovering over the Human’s throat.

Thrawn felt warm lips on his cheek: a kiss just beside his ear so hesitant it might have been mistaken for a whisper, if not for the fingers tracing his jaw. He closed his eyes, sinking into the warm hand on his face.

As if surprised to have his bold gesture positively received rather than rejected, Eli gasped almost inaudibly in his ear.

Thrawn felt a surge of need in his stomach, almost primal in its intensity.

He wanted to hear Eli gasp again.

* * *

_Skip Sex Scene. _

* * *

Turning his head, Thrawn captured Eli’s mouth in his. The Human stiffened in surprise for a moment before melting into the kiss, twining his hands in Thrawn’s inky blue hair.

The kisses that began as tender, hesitant, and exploring soon became bolder as the pair made their way to the bunk, leaving a trail of scattered clothing behind them.

After many gentle explorations, whispered encouragements and urging touches, Thrawn entered Eli for the first time.

The Human clung to the Chiss’s back like he was afraid of falling through the mattress and floating away into space. His hands wove into blue-black hair, tugging desperately as Thrawn showed him everything he'd never been able to say with words.

Eli's mouth fell open in a permanent moan, his previous attempts to keep as quiet as possible completely forgotten. 

When Thrawn reached down to sling one of Eli's legs over his shoulder, giving him a better angle to spark that fire inside his lover, Eli cried out. The broken sound of Thrawn’s name erupted from his mouth like a wave crashing against the rocks.

Eli’s brown eyes watered as Thrawn matched the pace of their frantically beating hearts. His shoulders sank back into the bed, his eyes clenching shut, his face twisting as he was overcome with pleasure.

From the research on Human sexuality he’d conducted years previous (to better account for the human range of emotions and behaviors, or so he’d told himself then), Thrawn did not think the Human would be able to climax from just this, without being touched where he pulsed with need against his stomach.

But Eli had.

Thrawn lost himself in pleasure and heat, his ears ringing and vision swimming as he felt fingers digging into his back, Eli’s desperate pleas for more washing over him like a chorus. Red eyes had bored into brown, flashing with the intensity of desire and a thousand unspoken promises. 

"Eli," he’d husked into his lover’s ear, his normally-poised voice a deep growl in his throat, muffled by sweat-glistened skin.

As if the sound of his own name in Thrawn’s voice alone was all it took, Eli clawed at Thrawn’s shoulders, throwing his head back to expose the smooth brown column of his throat, shining with sweat as he choked out Thrawn’s name.

Thrawn bit down hard on Eli’s neck as he lost himself inside the man he treasured above all others, muffling the sound of his own undoing against warm flesh. 

They had stayed wrapped together in the bunk for hours, Thrawn stroking Eli’s head against his chest as he slept.

His red eyes did not close, his mind refusing sleep. Instead, Thrawn held Eli close to him, savoring the warm weight of his body, the scent of his hair, the taste of his sweat-kissed face against his lips.

Thrawn lazily traced the freckles on his tan back and shoulders, committing them to memory like constellations in the sky.

In the present, Thrawn could feel his hands itch with the memory of Eli’s warm skin beneath his hands.

A chime in the hall alerted him to the ship’s imminent departure from hyperspace and he moved fluidly from the bed to the cockpit to guide the _Fool’s Hope_ into the Ilum system.

The blue star that had haunted Thrawn's dreams for months glittered beyond.

There were no other ships visible in the space surrounding the blue world. The only sign of Imperial presence was the gigantic scar that bisected the planet like a grotesque mouth, the result of their rapacious kyber excavation. Thrawn checked the computer for life-signs and found only two. He frowned, hesitating a moment.

But only a moment.

Pushing down on the yoke, Thrawn steered the _Fool’s Hope_ into Ilum’s snow-swirled atmosphere.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Shout-out to w3djyt for sending instructions on anchor-links! I had no idea I could do that!
> 
> Chapter title from "A Poem of Love in Eleven Lines" by Gerrit Lansing


	11. “These days are incomplete”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter title from “Friendship After Love” by Ella Wheeler Wilcox
> 
> All remaining chapters will have an illustration.

Eli slammed his palms down onto the conference table. “I’m not _asking_ you to risk Chiss security, I’m asking you to risk _me!_ ” Several Admirals winced visibly at the flagrant display of emotion.

Admiral I’nenolo shook his head. “The potential benefits do not come _close_ to making up for the risks. We would necessarily be sending you in a Chiss ship.”

Admiral Am’alana cut in, “—with an Ozyly-esehembo.”

Admiral Ar’alani’s mouth was pressed into a thin line. “The Captain _did_ say that he believed he could modify a Chiss ship to receive his manually-programmed course, but—“

“—a big if—“ Admiral Ren’to scoffed.

“—as I was _saying…”_ Ar’alani finished, casting Ren’to a sharp look, “it may still be too much of a risk, even in that case.”

Eli turned to face his own commanding officer. He knew she wanted to help Thrawn—and to help him. But she would not risk the safety of any Chiss to do it.

Unless he could convince her—and all of the Admirals—that it was worth it.

“You sent him to the Empire as an emissary but also a _spy,_ ” Eli reminded them. “You’ve had me grounded for half a year trying to recover the memories of what he’d learned and it didn’t work. But what if going to Ilum _did_?”

There were a few mutters amongst the Admirals at that. Ar’alani, however, kept her focus on Eli, her red eyes narrowing. “Go on, Captain Eli’van’to,” she said slowly.

Eli let out a sharp breath. “I think Thrawn believed his best shot at restoring his mind was going to Ilum. You may not always agree with him, but you _know_ he is brilliant. If he believes going to Ilum is his best chance of restoring what he’s lost, then it _is._ It’s not even _in_ the Empire, it’s far closer to the Ascendancy!”

“But according to your own previous statements on Project Stardust, Ilum _is_ being stripped for resources by the Empire,” Admiral Ren’to pointed out. “Surely there will be an Imperial presence.”

“I think they're past that phase in the project, but you're right: it’s possible, yes,” Eli said, a small smile on his face. “In which case, don’t you think it best somebody _retrieves_ the Chiss who does not remember being a loyal servant of the Empire or Imperial protocol but _does_ know a hell of a lot about the Ascendancy?” He tilted his head. “Not that he’ll _talk_ of course, but the fact that he _is_ a Chiss is just a little hard to hide. So the way I see it, there is no _additional_ risk in sending a Chiss _ship_ : only potential benefit. Namely, the possibility of preventing the Empire from discovering a Chiss running around their territory, _and_ of recovering Thrawn and everything he knows.”

Ar’alani’s mouth was pressed into a firm line, her eyes shifting away from Eli. At that moment, he knew he’d won: it was the face she made when she was hiding how pleased she was. 

The Admirals exchanged looks. They all turned to look at Admiral Praetoria Un’nuya. She eyed Eli appraisingly for a moment, then nodded.

“Very well, Eli’van’to…” she said, looking at him with new respect. “You may have your ship.”

Eli breathed out a loud sigh of relief. “Thank you, Admiral Praetoria, Admirals—I promise you won’t regret this.”

Admiral Ar’alani nodded to each of the other Admirals in turn before rising from her seat. She beckoned Eli to her with a jerk of her head. Leaning forward she whispered, “I take it you’ve already modified a ship?”

Eli grinned. “Yes, ma’am.”

* * *

As Thrawn descended into Ilum’s atmosphere, he noticed something… odd.

Not unlike when he’d let his hands guide the piloting process rather than focus on the task mentally, his hands seemed to know which way to go, gently steering the yoke toward the Northern hemisphere.

There was a large plateau, the snow shining blue with the light of Ilum’s star. And in the middle of the plateau was a simple stone structure—hardly more than two pillars supporting a beam—like a door leading to nowhere.

Thrawn took the ship in for a landing and powered down the engines. He hesitated a moment as he debated taking the blaster Eli had stowed beneath the chair but decided against it.

Blasters weren’t famously effective on Jedi, anyway.

Thrawn straightened the collar of his burgundy jacket and went out to meet his fate.

The wind moaned around him, swelling to a sound like a howl before returning to a low, shuddering sound: as if the planet itself were crying out in pain.

A swirl of icy wind whipped Thrawn's hair around his face as he descended the boarding ramp. The moment his foot crunched on the snow, he heard a voice.

“So… you’re back,” it said in Meese Caulf.

Thrawn narrowed his eyes. He could hardly see her beyond the infrared: likely due to the white cloak she wore, he supposed. The Togrutan stepped through the pillars and approached Thrawn, her long staff leaving a line behind her in the snow.

A moment later, a far more familiar figure appeared behind her: Ezra Bridger. His hair was slightly longer, and he wore a heavy black cloak, but he looked much the same as he had on Rakata Prime. He gave Ahsoka a lopsided grin and said in Basic, “Told you he’d show up. This blue sleemo can’t stand not knowing kriff.”

“Fair enough,” Thrawn replied in the same language.

Ezra’s eyes widened. “You got your memory back?”

“No,” Ahsoka said, shaking her head. “Though he has learned much of what he has lost all the same… but not all.” Turning to face Thrawn, she said, “That _is_ why you have come to us?

Thrawn nodded.

“Why now?” Ahsoka asked, her blue eyes narrowing ever so slightly in something bordering between curiosity and suspicion. “Before you were unwilling to risk damaging what was left of your memories; you claimed that your people needed you to help them against this looming threat—that only you could see it.”

“You are a far more experienced Jedi than Bridger,” Thrawn said. “You may be able to repair the damage that was done.”

“Again,” Ezra muttered. “I am _real_ sorry about that, but I _did_ have other things on my mind. Like saving Lothal. And not dying,” he added with a mutter, not sounding remotely sorry.

Ignoring the comment, Ahsoka countered, “But I do not have Ezra’s gift for connection. If my Master could not touch your mind beyond its surface emotions, I do not believe I can.”

“You can perhaps guide Bridger, then,” Thrawn said, a particularly strong gust of wind blowing his hair and jacket even as the Jedi’s robes seemed to remain still.

Ezra shot Thrawn a look. “I’m hearing a lot of talk about what Ezra can do but not a lot of actually _asking_ Ezra if he can do it.”

Thrawn turned to him. “You _can_ do it.”

Ezra threw up his hands. “What the hell do you know about what I can do?”

“Because _I’ve_ done it, and I was younger and far less trained than you are now,” Thrawn said, his voice sharp.

Ezra’s eyes widened. “So it is true?”

Thrawn stared at him a moment, then gave him a quick nod. “My people do not retain their connection to what you call the Force after reaching maturity. But those of us who could once feel the Force still carry some of the vulnerabilities that come with the Sight.”

“That being… what happened on the _Chimaera_?” Ezra asked, his face flickering with painful memories recalled.

Thrawn swallowed. “I do not remember what happened, as you well know. But those of us who possess what is called Second Sight—or telepathy—can sometimes… get lost in the minds of others with the same ability. Like two mirrors being placed against one another: the effect is disorienting and mesmerizing.”

“And permanent?” Ahsoka asked shrewdly.

“Usually...” Thrawn admitted, glancing at the blue-white star visible between the pillars. “ _Always_ , so far as I know. But the Chiss Force-sensitives are _children_ who run the risk of getting as lost as those they might help _._ It may be that an adult _Jedi_ can accomplish what they could not."

Ahsoka looked doubtful. Thrawn let out a short breath. "You told me you owed me a debt,” he said. “For helping your Master save Senator Padme. You may fail but you _must try._ _Please._ ”

Ahsoka tapped her staff on the ground. Though the sound was muted by the snow, it still echoed in Thrawn's ears. “I might have done so when we first found you. So I ask again: why now? What’s changed?”

Thrawn met her penetrating blue eyes, considering a moment. Though he knew she could not touch his mind—at least not the way Bridger could—there was a certain cleverness, a wisdom in those eyes that he knew would make lying futile.

So he told the truth.

“I could not remember,” Thrawn said, nearly having to shout to be heard over a sudden gust of wind. “So I did not know what I had lost. I know now. I have seen it in dreams... and once, for a moment, I even held it in my hands. _I need it back_.”

“For your people? Or for yourself?” Ahsoka asked.

“Neither,” Thrawn said. “For a friend.”

If the Togrutan was surprised by that, it did not show on her serene features. “Before, Ezra made the connection to your mind _without_ your consent and _without_ realizing the risks it carried for your species," She said levelly. "But now you would knowingly risk further degradation of your mind? Your memories?”

Thrawn nodded, his face set with determination. “I would.”

Ahsoka took a step forward. “And what of your friend? Do _they_ know you would take such a risk?” She nodded her head toward Ezra. “You say you have been able to access some of your past through dreams. But if we do this, that may no longer be possible for you." She narrowed her eyes and added, "There is a good chance we would only worsen the damage, and even that meager remnant— _everything_ —would be lost to you."

“There is no making it worse,” Thrawn said simply. “Either result would be its own solution.”

And it was. Either he would restore his memories, become whole, become the man Eli loved… or he would forget—once more—that he ever craved that love in the first place.

Anything would be better than _this_.

Ezra rubbed the back of his neck in a nervous gesture. “I mean, I don’t know that I can even _do_ this. It was hard enough getting inside your head the first time _without_ having to guide Ahsoka, too. I’ve never done anything like this before.”

“As I have already said: _I have,_ ” Thrawn assured him. “And I did not have your gifts.”

Ahsoka smiled. “But you had more discipline, I bet.”

“A puffer-pig has more discipline than Bridger,” Thrawn said simply.

“Hey!” Ezra said, placing his hands on his own chest. “Standing _right here?_! And I haven’t even agreed to _do_ this for you. Frankly, I don't know why I _should._ ”

“You are not doing this for _me_ , Bridger,” Thrawn reminded him. “You are doing this for you and your Rebellion. Because if there is even a chance that you can access what I know about the Empire, then it is a chance you _must take_.”

Ezra and Ahsoka turned to face one another, something unspoken passing between them... or perhaps something spoken that Thrawn could not hear.

After what seemed like an age, Ezra turned to Thrawn...

And gave him a single nod.

* * *

The moment Eli’s ship entered the Ilum atmosphere, he lost control. The steering yoke refused to respond to his touch, steering him in a sharp curve toward the planet’s surface.

Eli cursed to himself as he tried to regain control of the ship. He was about to cut the power and restart it and _hope_ he could get the engines going again before he crashed when he heard a faint whisper:

_Eli …_

“… Thrawn?” he called back, his face twisting in confusion before jerking forward as the ship turned down sharply, making its descent toward a plateau on the Northern pole. As he approached, he could make out the faint outline of what must have been the _Fool’s Hope._

He’d been so focused on the ship in the distance he’d hardly noticed when whatever was controlling the steering yoke released. “ _Fuck!”_ he hissed as he pulled back sharply, bringing the small Chiss shuttle in for a far gentler landing than he’d been about to experience just moments before.

After hurriedly unstrapping himself from the pilot’s seat, Eli holstered a sidearm on one thigh and a pair of folded fighting sticks on the other. Through the viewport he could just see two figures, faint in the snow.

With one last steadying breath, Eli disembarked, walking forward at a cautious pace to meet them.

His steady walk turned into a run when he saw the blue figure lying in the snow.

The young Human Eli recognized from the HoloNet as Ezra Bridger was shaking Thrawn’s unresponsive body, muttering, “No, no, no, _Thrawn!_ Stay with me!”

Eli ran forward, sliding across the snow to kneel beside Thrawn and shoving Ezra aside in the process. He placed his hand over each side of his chest in turn: only one of his hearts was beating and it was faint.

He cradled his blue face in his hands, gently tapping his blue cheeks. “Thrawn? Thrawn, _please!_ ” Switching to Cheunh he said, “ _Mitth’raw’nuruodo!_ Don’t you dare do this to me, please, _please_ stay with me!” With his thumb, he gently peeled back one of the Chiss’s eyelids.

Thrawn’s eyes were a dull, unseeing pink: their glow gone.

Eli clenched his jaw, his eyes burning with grief and rage. Looking up at Ezra he growled, “ _What did you do?_ ”

Ezra’s mouth opened and closed a few times before answering: “What he asked me to.”

Eli shook his head fervently. “I don’t believe you,” he croaked as he pulled Thrawn against his legs, clutching the Chiss’s limp head to his lap.

“It is true, Eli Vanto,” the other Jedi—Ahsoka, Thrawn had called her—said, her voice warm and patient. “He understood the risks for one such as him, but deemed them far less than the risk of doing nothing.”

“Why?” Eli demanded, unable to keep the sob from his voice. “ _Why_ would he leave me again?” He turned away from the Jedi, burying his face into inky blue hair, a desperate, pleading cry tearing from his throat before he broke down into tears, clutching Thrawn’s listless body to his.

After many minutes, after his tears were nearly spent, replaced by dry, painful sobs, Eli felt a hand on his back and stiffened at the touch. He lifted his head just high enough to see Ezra Bridger with eyes closed and face furrowed in concentration, his other hand resting on Thrawn’s arm.

Another hand firmly grasped his shoulder. Eli turned to see the Togrutan’s eyes close before his surroundings dissolved before him, like stars melting into hyperspace.

 _Find him…_ a voice whispered…

_And hurry..._

__


	12. “My life held precariously in the seeing hands of others”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter title from "Instant coffee with..." by Frank O'Hara
> 
> CW: describes symptoms of traumatic brain injury, including seizures.

Eli stumbled, his vision swimming. He blinked his eyes into focus to find himself in familiar-yet-not surroundings.

The dark room was a half-dome, the curved side lined completely with a floor-to-ceiling viewport that showed hyperspace flowing around them. With the room’s own lights off, the gentle flickering of the blue and white waves of hyperspace along the walls gave the impression of being underwater rather than in space.

It was the forward visual triangulation dome of a Chiss battle cruiser, Eli knew, but not one he’d ever been on before. Though one ship of the same model was difficult to distinguish from the next, this one had subtle differences in design that lent him to believe it was of a different time.

“Who are you?” came a small voice in Cheunh.

Eli spun around. Seated on the floor beside the massive viewport, the blue and white waves of hyperspace dancing behind him, was a boy—probably no more than eight or nine—wearing the black and silver uniform of a Navigator.

Eli’s heart began to race in excited recognition.

It was Thrawn.

“I’m Captain Eli’van’to,” Eli said, stepping forward to kneel in front of the boy. “Who are you?”

“Raw’nuruodo,” he said, eying Eli curiously. “You talk weird.”

Eli laughed. “I know I do.” He took a deep breath, attempting to force himself into some semblance of calmness. “What are you doing here?”

“Guiding the ship,” Raw'nuruodo said with slightly narrowed eyes, his tone making it clear that this should be the most obvious thing in the world.

Eli smiled sadly at the child. “So you are. And I bet you’re doing a wonderful job.”

“You are an exceedingly patronizing person, aren’t you?” Raw’nuruodo said flatly.

Eli’s face split into a grin in spite of himself. “Just so you know, between the two of us, I’m _hardly_ the most patronizing one here.”

Raw’nuruodo blinked at him once before turning his gaze back to the waves of hyperspace, his small fingers hovering over the viewport, his breath fogging the cool transparisteel.

Eli frowned, a thought occurring to him. “Raw’nuruodo, the ship is in hyperspace: how are you guiding it if you aren’t at the helm?”

Raw’nuruodo’s red eyes widened in horror. Suddenly, he lashed against the transparisteel, his hands clawing at his own face and wailing. Eli reached out to him but was thrown to the floor as the ship lurched out of hyperspace and into blinding, blue light.

_A star._

Eli scrambled to his feet, rushing toward the screaming child. Just before he could reach the boy, the durasteel frame of the viewport glowed molten orange and the transparisteel exploded, sending them both back in a maelstrom of light.

When Eli came to, he was lying on the bridge of a Chiss cruiser, his cheek pressed against the cool durasteel floor. With a groan, he forced himself to his knees, searching for the boy.

Eli heard him before he saw him. His voice was slightly deeper, but still bore the hallmark of youth.

Eli turned to see Raw’nurodo—two or three years older, perhaps—beseeching a man in a white Admiral’s uniform. Another Navigator, a slightly older girl, stood awkwardly behind him, trying to look as poised and professional as possible, attempting to distance herself from the gross insubordination of her fellow.

Eli straightened, watching the exchange: _he_ was just impressed at the sheer _cheek_.

“I _saw_ it, Admiral!” Raw’nurodo insisted, his red eyes flashing with determination. “I saw them _attack the Ascendancy!_ We need to strike _now!_ ”

Admiral Ren’to, who had the look of a man rapidly losing his patience, said firmly, “It is not your place to command _me,_ Navigator. Your task is to see _hyperlanes_ and _obstacles,_ not to make judgments about what threats may or may not exist.”

Raw’nurodo narrowed his eyes, not backing down an inch. “We need to attack them now before they have a chance to—“

“ _Enough,_ ” The Admiral hissed, unable to keep the disgust from his voice. “We cannot attack a people who have shown _no signs_ of aggression toward us, because of the whims of a _child!_ ”

“But—“

“No,” Ren’to said firmly. “You are a _tool,_ not an _officer_. Return to your quarters, Raw’nuruodo. _Now!_ ”

Raw’nurodo stared up at him for a few moments, defiance plastered on his blue features, before spinning on his heel and stomping down the bridge.

The Admiral pinched the bridge of his nose in frustration and sighed, “Ar’alani, take the helm.”

The young girl bowed before hurrying to the nav console.

Eli hurried after Raw’nuruodo but by the time he reached the hall outside, the boy was gone. He ran down the corridor, his steps echoing loudly around him. He tried each door he passed, but none of them would open. With each locked door, he grew more and more panicked, his movements becoming more frantic as a faint voice whispered, _find him, Vanto._

At last, the door at the end of the corridor opened at his slightest touch.

Raw’nuruodo was standing before the viewport of the forward visual triangulation dome, staring out at the blue and white waves of hyperspace.

“Thrawn!” Eli called out.

The boy flinched slightly, then turned over his shoulder to look at the human, his blue face streaked with tears.

Behind him, the waves of hyperspace gave way to brilliant light once more before all was brightness, chaos, and flame just as a voice echoed amidst the explosion—another whisper, more urgent— _you need to hurry._

“ _Fuck me in the eye!”_ Eli grunted in frustration against the durasteel floor he found himself plastered upon yet again, his back groaning in protest.

“What is that, Galactic Basic?”

Eli stiffened slightly before pushing himself off the ground. He was on the bridge beneath the command walkway, down by the nav console. Raw’nurodo—appearing to be about twelve or thirteen—was eying him curiously from the Navigator’s chair.

“Yes,” Eli said in Cheunh, cracking his neck and rubbing his shoulder. Real or no, all these explosions were starting to take a toll on his body… mind. Mind-body. “It was Galactic Basic.”

Raw’nurodo narrowed his red eyes.

For a moment, Eli felt a strange sensation in the back of his mind—like a whisper just on the edge of hearing.

Raw’nurodo leaned back in surprise. “Your mind is strange. Very…” he twisted his mouth into a faint frown. “... messy: emotional.” 

“Yes, so I’ve been told,” Eli said wryly. “Anyone ever tell you about a little thing called _privacy_?”

Raw’nurodo blinked at him. “No… what is… _pri-va-cy_?” he pronounced the word slowly, as if trying it out for the first time and finding it strange.

Eli tilted his head, giving teenage-Thrawn a weary look. “Very cute.”

Raw’nurodo flashed him a self-satisfied look before returning to his work, his eyes falling shut as he prepared to guide the ship through hyperspace.

“Navigator, prepare for jump,” a voice echoed from above.

“Ready for jump,” Raw’nurodo confirmed.

Eli watched the process in fascination: blue hands hovering over the nav controls, rapid movements of his eyes flickering beneath their lids, his breathing slow and steady. Raw’nurodo took a deep breath in, then reached for the hyper-switch, letting the breath out slowly as he pushed it forward.

Eli felt the familiar lurch as the ship jumped, blue light undulating above them from the viewport, dancing across the floor in ripples. He did not know how long he stood there, entranced as he watched this impossibly young Thrawn do what he’d been raised from infancy to do.

Suddenly, the fluttering movements beneath Thrawn’s eyes stopped. His mouth fell open, a strained look on his face. He opened his mouth to speak, perhaps to ask for help or cry out a warning, but no words came. A trickle of dark, red blood oozed from his nose and his entire body stiffened. His hand was a rigid claw as he forced it forward, his muscles visibly straining with the effort.

_Where are you, Vanto?_

Eli tried to reach for Raw’nurodo but found he couldn’t move.

At last, Raw’nurodo hit the switch, bringing the ship careening out of hyperspace and spinning into blackness, narrowly avoiding a blue star.

“NAVIGATOR!” A voice yelled. “What the _hell was tha_ t?”

Admiral Am’alana appeared on the bridge above them, her face switching rapidly from anger to horror as she realized what must have happened.

It had never happened before, but he _was_ around that age.

The Navigator’s Third-Sight had faded—suddenly— _mid-jump._

She leapt down from the bridge, pulling Raw’nurodo from the Navigator's chair and down to the floor, cradling him in her lap. He twitched against her, his red eyes staring unseeing at the ceiling above him, his mouth hanging open in a silent scream, his legs convulsing weakly against the floor.

Whatever invisible force had been holding Eli back released and he lurched forward; the Chiss Commander dissipated like smoke as he reached the young Thrawn, pulling him into his arms.

Raw’nurodo’s red eyes blinked slowly, coming back into focus. “Eli?” he croaked, his voice barely audible.

Eli could have cried in relief. “It’s me, Thrawn, I’m here.”

“I cannot see,” he said, his voice shaking.

“I know,” Eli said, brushing blue-black hair from the young man’s forehead. “I know you can’t but it’s going to be okay, I promise.”

“I cannot see… it’s not enough…” Thrawn said weakly, his eyes unfocusing again.

Eli frowned in confusion. “I don’t understand: _what’s_ not enough? Thrawn?” he placed his hand on the boy’s cheek, “W _hat’s not enough?_ ” he repeated urgently.

The strange voice returned, more insistent this time: _You’re almost out of time, Vanto._

Eli felt a wash of heat roll over him as the bridge began to glow with blinding light. He clutched a now-catatonic Thrawn desperately to his chest as the ship was pulled in by the star’s gravity, unable to get away, and unwilling to let go.

_I can’t find you… you need to let me pull you out._

Eli felt the chill of ice beneath his hands, biting against his bare fingers. He was in some sort of cave glittering with crystal—Csilla? Or even Ilum itself? He could not tell.

He lifted an arm to cover his eyes against a flash of brilliant blue light in the depths. A familiar silhouette was standing amidst the glow, his back turned to Eli.

“Thrawn!” Eli called, still shielding his eyes as he jogged forward, the ice beneath his feet so cold it stuck to his boots.

_I can almost sense you… just hold on a few seconds longer…_

Thrawn—as he knew him now—was standing on the edge of a cliff, staring at the source of the light: a small, blue star, hovering in the center of the gigantic cavern.

The whispering echo that had been following Eli since he’d begun this strange journey grew clearer—it was Ezra Bridger, calling to him: _you need to hold on to him—you need to pull him out!_

Eli looked around frantically for the source of the voice but saw only glittering crystal, blue light, and Thrawn. “Thrawn,” Eli called, reaching out to grab the man’s arm and pull him back from the precipice. “We’re running out of time, we need to get you out of here—“

“I can see it,” Thrawn said, his face glowing with the light of the star, pulling away from Eli’s grasp to move toward it. “They are singing—“

“No, Thrawn,” Eli gritted, tightening his grip on the Chiss’s arm. “You’ve been trying and trying and it’s _not working._ I think the longer you stay in here the more you’re hurtin’ yourself. Just _please: come back with me now._ ”

Thrawn shook his head, staring desperately at the star. “It is not enough,” he whispered.

“It is,” Eli choked out, his throat tightening painfully. “Please, I am so, _so sorry._ ” He tightened his grip on Thrawn’s arm. _“_ I was so scared—I’d had to grieve you twice already and I … I pushed you away, I am so sorry. You are more than enough—you have always been and always will be _more than enough_.”

“I need to see,” Thrawn muttered, pulling against Eli’s arm. “It needs me to remember _:_ _I_ need to remember.”

A dull roar began to emanate from the star, drowning out the still-echoing voice of Ezra Bridger.

Eli yelled to be heard over the sound, “You don’t need to remember because you have me— _I_ remember—I’ll hold your past in my hands just like I’ve held your words! Please, I am _begging_ you Thrawn: come back with me _now_!”

Thrawn turned to him and Eli grabbed his face in his hands. “I love you, Thrawn—there is nothing in this universe that could stop me loving you.”

Thrawn smiled at him. “I believe you, Eli,” he said, covering Eli’s hands with his own and pulling them away to hold them gently between them, placing a soft kiss on his knuckles. He glanced over his shoulder at the star before returning his gaze to the man before him. “And I am sorry.”

Eli was thrown back by an invisible force. He landed hard on the ice, his eyes widening in horror as Thrawn ran forward toward the blazing blue star, about to leap. Eli scrambled to his feet, screaming words he could not hear as he tried desperately to catch him before he could make the jump.

Blue light exploded all around them and Eli felt his fingers brush over Thrawn’s elbow just as a far firmer grip took hold of his own, yanking him back from the blinding light.


	13. "Dying eyes assume new fires"

Eli could feel icy wind biting at the back of his exposed neck... the weight of a body in his lap... cool skin pressed against his forehead. He opened his eyes with some difficulty to find that night had fallen.

Eli was hunched over Thrawn, still cradling his head in his lap; the Chiss's eyes were closed, his face unmoving. Eli could feel the warmth of two hands leaving his shoulder; his neck was stiff as he forced himself to straighten.

Ahsoka looked grave as she released Thrawn from her grip, her mauve lips pressed into a tight line. Ezra was still clutching Thrawn’s arm, his blue eyes glistening with unshed tears. “I tried to grab you both,” he said, his voice cracking. “But there was only time to reach _you_ and—“

“ _Did_ you reach him?” Ahsoka asked Eli calmly, eyeing him with an unreadable expression.

“I don’t know,” Eli whispered, looking back down at Thrawn, pushing blue-black hair back from the Chiss's closed eyes with his hand. He bent forward and placed a lingering kiss on his face before pressing their foreheads together, desperately breathing in the scent of his hair.

Eli was determined to not move from his place unless Thrawn moved with him.

Even if it meant waiting to be buried in the snow.

For their part, the two Jedi—at least for the moment—seemed determined to wait with him in solemn silence, like a winter vigil.

Eli wondered vaguely if they had seen what he himself had seen as he breathed out a shaky breath against Thrawn's hair, praying to forces he neither understood nor fully believed in that Thrawn would come back to him. 

“You found me…” a quiet, rasping voice said into the snowy silence. 

Eli choked out a laugh of relief as he saw red light peeking through hooded eyes.

“I will always find you," Eli said. He leaned back, pulling Thrawn further up to rest against his chest, wrapping his arms around his shoulders and holding him close.

Ezra was staring at them, eyes wide and mouth gaping. “That was amazing—how did—that shouldn’t—you were—” he barked out a laugh. “That shouldn’t’ve even been _possible!_ ”

Ahsoka gave him a small smile as she stood. “All things are possible in the Force, Ezra.”

Ezra cast her a look as he got to his feet, brushing snow from his cloak. “Yeah, I _know that_ Ahsoka, but c’mon, you know what I mean: he was _gone,_ ” he added faintly.

Ahsoka nodded, glancing back down at the Chiss. “It should not have been possible but for this sacred place, the few mother crystals that still hide within its core, and the will of the Force. So, Mitth’raw’nuruodo,” she asked Thrawn, tilting her head. “What purpose has the Force granted you? Why has it brought you back to us?”

Thrawn placed a hand over the arm slung across his chest. “I do not know…," he said. "I do not remember.”

Eli’s grip tightened around Thrawn; he leaned forward to place a kiss on the crown of his head before whispering into ink-blue hair, “It doesn’t matter. You’re safe here with me and that is all I care about.”

Thrawn gave the arms holding him a quick squeeze before pulling away, turning to push himself onto his knees with some difficulty. He turned to Ezra, giving him a long, searching look.

Ezra shifted slightly under the red-eyed stare, muttering, “ _What_?”

Thrawn stared at him for another few moments before shaking his head and returning his gaze to Eli. “You got here quite fast. Do you have any idea how long it took me to calculate a hyperspace route without a nav computer?”

Eli shrugged, wiping residual tears from his eyes.

“It took me almost a whole week of working nearly all night," Thrawn said, his red eyes glittering. “How long did it take you?”

Eli moistened his lips with his tongue, a smile twitching at his lips. “Couple hours.” Thrawn shook his head in disbelief and Eli rolled his eyes, blushing slightly. “I was real motivated, alright?” His smile faded as he looked at Thrawn. He raised a hand, tracing the faint scar on his blue cheek. “Are you alright?”

Thrawn leaned into the touch, his eyes falling shut for a moment as he savored the contact. “I am fine, Eli,” he said, turning into Eli's hand to kiss his palm. 

“If you were gonna kiss him properly, Admiral Sleemo, don’t let us stop you.”

The pair turned to see Ezra grinning maniacally at them, his arms folded across his chest. “I’m sure you’re _real grateful_ to your ‘ _friend’_ here,” he said, waggling his dark eyebrows suggestively.

Thrawn shook his head at the Jedi before pushing himself to a stand, stumbling slightly. Eli hurried to his own feet, gripping Thrawn’s arms to support him. “Are you _sure_ you’re alright?” he whispered, his brown eyes flickering with worry.

“I believe I will be,” Thrawn said as Eli slung one of the Chiss’s arms across his shoulders to support him better.

Eli turned to Ahsoka. “I’m gonna get him back to my ship.” He hesitated a moment then said, “I don’t suppose _you_ all could use another ship?”

Ahsoka inclined her head. “The Rebellion can always use more ships.”

“Thought as much,” Eli said with a wry smile. “You can have mine if you want—least I could do—it’s called the _Fool’s Hope._ ” 

Thrawn stiffened slightly, saying in Cheunh, “Are you certain you wish to give it up?”

Eli shrugged beneath his weight. “I’m not letting you fly back on your own and it seems foolish to come back for it later. Besides,” he added with a smile. “I have everything I need right here.”

Thrawn gave him an amused smile. “You mean me, correct?”

Eli sighed, squeezing Thrawn’s waist in his hand. “Yes, I mean _you._ ”

“Just checking,” Thrawn said as he allowed himself to be steered toward the Chiss scout ship.

Ezra groaned loudly, “You mean you’re giving us that junky pirate freighter? We don’t get the cool shiny black one with the sick nose guns?”

“No,” Eli and Thrawn answered in sync without looking at him.

Thrawn stiffened a moment and Eli paused. He turned back to stare at Ezra as if searching for something, his red eyes narrowing in recognition.

Ahsoka took a few slow steps forward. “Mitth’raw’nuruodo?” she asked cautiously.

Thrawn turned to look at her, his mouth parting slightly as if to say something. After several long moments, he said in Meese Caulf, “It is not him. I had hoped, but…” he swallowed. “He is gone. I am sorry.”

Ahsoka’s eyes widened a moment, a pained expression flashing on her features before her face set into one of resolve and acceptance. “I know. Thank you, Mitth’raw’nuruodo.”

“Huh?” Ezra asked. “What the heck are you talking about? All I caught there was ‘I’ and ‘sorry.’”

Thrawn ignored the question and said to the young Jedi, “Now that the TIE-defender factory has been defunct for some time, the Death Star will likely be close to completion, if it is not complete already. Were that not the case, this place would be crawling with Imperial security by now.”

Ezra leaned back in surprise. “What? What are you talking about?”

“The weapon the Emperor has been building for years: the planet-killer powered by kyber,” Thrawn explained patiently but with a definite edge of urgency. “I tried to slow it down, but,” He shook his head, “that is all incidental now. The plans for the Emperor’s planet-killer are kept in the archives on Scariff. Its codename is ‘Stardust.’ You must retrieve those plans if you are to have any hope of defeating it. Its primary architect is a human named Galen Erso; I met him once at the Emperor’s palace, and while he looked very much the defeated man, losing himself in his work, I believe it to be a fiction. I do not believe the Empire will stand long once the weapon is used, but it will not die quietly and billions of lives will be lost before then. But you may save billions more if you can convince Erso to help you. There is no such thing as an unbeatable hand: every weapon has its weakness, every fortress its vulnerability.”

Ezra’s eyes were wide for a moment as he absorbed the information. He shared a glance with Ahsoka before giving Thrawn a determined nod. “Right. Find Galen Erso: I’ll tell them.”

Thrawn’s hand went to his nose as he felt a fresh dribble of blood rapidly cooling against his upper lip.

Eli’s grip tightened around Thrawn’s waist as he felt him sway slightly beside him. “C’mon,” he said urgently. “We need to get you home.”

Thrawn nodded in acquiescence. He gave the two Jedi a nod of farewell before allowing himself to be steered to the Chiss ship. His head felt heavy, his vision fading. One moment he was standing in the snow and the next he was being laid back into a chair, straps buckling him in.

He forced his eyes to focus and saw Eli watching him through the corner of his eyes as he powered up the engines, guiding them from the surface of Ilum. Eli steered the ship with one hand, the other reaching out to cradle Thrawn’s head, his fingers gently massaging his scalp.

“Just hang on, love,” Eli said, fighting to keep the fear from his voice. “We’ll be home before you know it.” 

* * *

“There _is_ no damage.”

“Then where is all the _blood_ coming from?”

“I do not know, sir.”

“Now, I’m not a doctor, but I am fairly certain _that_ isn’t normal.”

“It’s _not,_ but we’ve run every test we can think of and honestly… he may just be _exhausted._ ”

“Exhaustion causes phantom cranial bleeding, does it? _Idiot.”_

“I’ve seen this before, many years ago… but it makes no sense… he’s too _old._ ”

“I’m starting to think _you’re_ too old, doctor.”

Thrawn twitched at the sound of his brother’s voice.

His brother’s voice tended to have that effect on him.

Wincing, Thrawn slowly opened his eyes. He was lying in his own bed, his bare chest covered with electrodes: no doubt connected to whatever device was beeping steadily elsewhere. There were three doctors staring down at him from his left, two CDF officers behind them. To his right were Ar’alani, her hands clasped behind her back, and his brother, glaring at him with cool fury.

“Really?” Thrass asked. “Throwing tantrums? Destroying _art?_ Hijacking ships? Running off to Imperial Space with memory loss to get your brain even _more_ fucked? Oh, _sure,”_ he scoffed. “You are _definitely_ ready to return to active duty.”

Thrawn glanced at him a moment before staring down at the shining electrodes across his blue chest. “Ilum is technically not in Imperial—“

“Shut the fuck up, Thrawn,” Thrass said tiredly, running a hand over his eyes.

“Where is Eli’van’to?” Thrawn asked, turning to Ar’alani. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw his brother mouth mockingly: “ _Where’s_ _Eli’van’to_?”

Ar’alani pressed her mouth into a firm line, shooting Thrass a brief look before answering. “He is being treated for exhaustion,” she said. “Apparently he did not see fit to inform us during his debrief that he was on the verge of collapse before, well, _collapsing_.”

Thrawn’s eyes widened then he winced, just as the monitor beeped reproachfully. Ignoring the doctors pleads for him to not ‘get worked up,’ he demanded, “Where is he? Is he alright?”

Thrass snorted derisively.

Ar’alani took a deep breath and shouted, “Everyone _out_!” When Thrass opened his mouth to protest she added, “ _Now!”_

Everyone except Ar’alani and (of course) Thrawn cleared the room in record time. The Admiral grabbed a chair from beneath the window and dragged it to the side of the bed. “He is in his own chambers and he will be fine,” she said. “He has received an infusion and is getting some much-needed sleep, as you should be doing.”

The tension in Thrawn’s shoulders released. With the ghost of a smile, Ar’alani said, “That is some devoted tutor you have.”

“Yes, I think I’ll keep him,” Thrawn said as he pulled the electrodes from his chest. Ar’alani arched an eyebrow as she watched. Noticing her reproachful gaze, he explained, “The doctors said there is nothing wrong that they could detect. So keeping these,” he pulled the electrodes off his temples and tossed them onto the floor with the rest, “can only serve to make my skin itch.”

“That they have found nothing yet does not mean they _won’t,_ ” Ar’alani pointed out as she watched Thrawn push himself up to sitting position to lean against the pillows behind him.

“They will not find what they cannot see,” Thrawn said simply.

“And what can’t they see?” When Thrawn did not answer her she lowered her voice to a whisper, “It was the Sight, wasn’t it?” Thrawn blinked at her, and she explained, “I was _there,_ if you’ll recall: that day you lost it. When Eli'van'to carried you from the ship—your nose bleeding, your eyes unfocused, your hands twitching—I recognized the signs. So tell me,” she whispered urgently, “Was it the Sight? Did it return to you?”

Thrawn looked at her thoughtfully a moment then said, “If it did it is incidental, as it is gone now.”

Ar’alani let out a short breath of frustration. “If it is possible for the Sight to return in adulthood, the CDF _needs_ to find these Jedi and—“

“No,” Thrawn said firmly. When her gaze became insistent he explained patiently, “Jedi who can connect to a Chiss mind are rare: rarer still are those who can retrieve those who become lost in the process. It is far too great a risk for what can only be temporary, Ar’alani; I am sorry.”

She gave a slow nod of acceptance. “It _was_ only temporary, then?”

“Yes,” Thrawn told her. “I was only able to See while the Jedi touched my mind and for a short while after, and even then I had no control whatsoever. I saw only what I was meant to see.”

Ar'alani narrowed her eyes. "'Meant to see?' By _whom_?"

Thrawn considered a moment. "I cannot say for certain," he said truthfully. "The deeper mysteries of what the Jedi call 'the Force' remain closed to me, as I suspect they do for most."

Ar’alani breathed out in amazement. “Mysteries aside: no Chiss has ever been able to recover from the trance of mirrored Second Sight. But then your mind has always been somewhat extraordinary, Mitth’raw’nuruodo.”

Thrawn shook his head. “I did nothing but get more lost in my memories… my regrets. Eli was the one who pulled me out, guided by the Jedi.”

Ar’alani leaned back in surprise. She stared at Thrawn for a few moments, as if trying to determine the truthfulness of his claim. Seemingly satisfied, she smiled and said, “Some tutor indeed.”

She folded her arms across her chest and said with a business-like air, “So. Eli’van’to was allowed to fetch you partially in the hopes that your memories of your time in the Empire might yet be recovered. Have they been?”

Thrawn shrugged.

Ar’alani narrowed her eyes. “You know I hate it when Humans do that.” She imitated the shrug. “What does this even _mean_?”

“Lack of commitment… ignorance… indifference,” Thrawn explained, giving another shrug. “But more importantly, I now have reason to believe that the greatest threat posed by the Empire will soon be neutralized. Still, we should remain watchful.”

“We always do,” Ar’alani said, giving him a suspicious look before standing and straightening her uniform. “We will talk more once you are recovered. Be well, Mitth’raw’nuruodo—and warrior’s fortune be upon you.”

Thrawn inclined his head and watched her leave before settling back into the pillows, exhaustion overtaking him once more.

* * *

_“You may make it clear to the others that I am no more than an assignment. One, moreover, that you resisted and thoroughly dislike.”_

_“I don’t dislike my assignment. And I don’t dislike_ you _.”_

_“Do you not? Because of me you were taken from your ship and brought to this Academy, which you fear.”_

_“Who said I was afraid? I’m not afraid. I’m just not looking forward to spending my last term with a bunch of Core World snobs, that’s all.”_

_“I am glad to hear that…. We shall endure it together.”*_

The hesitant look of a twenty-year-old Eli Vanto’s face gave way to darkness as Thrawn awoke, opening his eyes just wide enough to see that night had fallen. He was still in bed; the medical equipment was no longer making its steady blinks and beeps. Evidently, the doctors had given up all hope of keeping the Chiss attached to it when he did not wish to be.

But more immediately than the lack of electrodes, was the presence of a warm body pressed against his back—the weight of an arm slung around his waist—the pressure of a hand pressed against his chest. Thrawn relaxed against the embrace, covering the brown hand that rested against his heart with his own blue one as he focused on the sensation of cool breaths against his neck, a steady heartbeat fluttering against his back.

Thrawn heard Eli take a deep breath before stretching against him, loosening his hold on his torso. “You’re awake,” Eli said, his voice groggy with sleep. “How’re you feeling?”

Eli’s arm did not lose contact with Thrawn’s body as the Chiss turned onto his back and rotated to face Eli.

“I am more concerned about you, Eli,” Thrawn said simply, his red eyes glowing brightly in the dark.

Eli chuckled under his breath, running his fingers through Thrawn's dark blue hair. “I’m sure you are, darlin’, but I asked first.”

Thrawn narrowed his eyes slightly. “’Darlin’,” he repeated. “The first time you called me that it was a joke.”

Eli smiled fondly at him. “No, the first time I called you that it was an accident and I played it _off_ as a joke.”

Eli had not asked how Thrawn had known that piece of trivia, Thrawn noticed, be it from a dream or something else.

“You’d finally been promoted and decided that consuming near-hazardous amounts of alcohol two weeks after the fact would be the culturally-appropriate response,” Thrawn said, pulling Eli flush against his chest and trailing a hand along his spine.

“I assure you it was very culturally appropriate; I had to make up for all those years I wasn’t allowed in the officer’s mess,” Eli said, shivering slightly at the fingertips brushing along his back. “And Faro agreed with me.”

“Well then,” Thrawn said, nuzzling his nose against Eli’s. “It must be true. But you have not answered my question.”

“You haven’t answered mine, either,” Eli pointed out, giving Thrawn’s waist a gentle squeeze. “But I feel fine… a little tired, maybe. You?”

“Tired, but also fine.”

Eli frowned, brushing back blue-black hair from Thrawn’s face, fixing it behind his ear. “Your head doesn’t hurt?”

“It did,” Thrawn admitted, blinking slowly as Eli traced the lines of his forehead, temple, and jaw, “but not now.” Eli made a skeptical face and Thrawn admitted, “It does hurt a little. But I suspected there would be less kissing if I admitted it, and I would very much like for there to be kissing.”

Eli gave him a look, half-amused, half-chiding. “It has been a while since I’ve kissed you properly,” he said, cupping one side of Thrawn’s face with his hand and brushing his cheek with his thumb. “And every other time has been goodbye.”

And so it had.

Thrawn knew because he remembered.

He could not remember everything… and maybe he never would.

But much _had_ come back to him the moment he had touched the blue star concealed within his mind on Ilum, and nearly all that did come back was memories shared with Eli. While he could not be certain, he strongly suspected it had something to do with the Human’s presence in his mind. Or perhaps it was some sort of gift from whatever power on that world that had used Thrawn to convey its message of hope and restored balance to the Jedi, its promise of victory in darkness. 

Thrawn remembered kissing Eli like it had happened only yesterday—and in a sense it had.

And, as Eli had said, each time really had been goodbye.

There was always something waiting after the kiss: some great disaster, some mission, some _something_ that kept those stolen moments from being anything else:

Their first and last night together on the _Fool’s Hope…._

A few frantic moments in a _supply closet,_ of all places, before sending Eli to Aloxor….

And the last time in the library… Thrawn could not have known for certain at the time, but even then he knew that kiss could well have been _the last_.

It almost had been.

Thrawn could not say why it was he’d been so reluctant to tell Ar'alani what he’d remembered, but with Eli the reason behind the reluctance was more clear. Part of him feared his partially-restored memory would be temporary, as his Sight had been. Seeing the excitement on Eli’s face to have Thrawn whole again only to see it break into disappointment would be too painful to bear.

But no, Thrawn assured himself: Eli loved him with or without his memories. And if the one’s he’d regained faded, then Eli could hold them for him, just as he promised he would... the way Eli held everything else.

But Thrawn would have to share those memories first.

“I never told you,” Thrawn said, resting his head against the pillow, “About the time I almost kissed you.” 

Eli frowned. “You mean since coming back to Csilla?”

“No,” Thrawn said, threading the fine hairs at the nape of Eli’s neck in his fingers. “Though there were many times I _wanted_ to kiss you over the years, there was only one time I almost did. It was after your promotion.”

Eli’s mouth parted slightly, his eyes looked concerned. “You didn’t see it in a dream? You remembered?”

“I did,” Thrawn said. “But I don’t know that it will last. So I want to tell you now.” Eli nodded, biting his lip to keep from interrupting as he settled his own head against the pillow. “We’d just been assigned to the _Chimaera._ You were helping me move into my office and the entire time your face was lit up like a sun.”

Thrawn traced Eli’s lips with his finger tips, feeling him smile beneath them. “You handed me a box of data-cards and your hands slipped. I covered your hands in mine to catch it, and as I took it from you, you looked at me much how you’re looking at me now. And in that moment I desperately wanted to drop the box and take you in my arms. I almost did.” 

Eli breathed out a laugh. “I remember that day… and I never told _you_ ,” Eli began, his brown eyes dancing with mischief, “that I let the box slip on purpose.”

Thrawn furrowed his brow. “Why?”

Eli’s words came out in a tumble: “Because you’d decided to unpack in just your undershirt and you looked at me and asked me a question and I couldn’t make words because you looked so good I thought I was gonna die and I panicked.” He laughed. “Hence my supremely sophisticated box-dropping maneuver.”

Thrawn arched an eyebrow. “I had noted a marked increase in your body heat, but assumed it was exertion.”

“Oh it was very exerting,” Eli assured him, sliding his hand behind Thrawn’s neck to draw him closer.

“Or possibly bourgeoning illness,” Thrawn suggested, brushing the tip of Eli’s nose with his own.

“Not burgeoning,” Eli said. “My condition was already quite serious at that point.” Thrawn hesitated a moment and Eli added, “That was a metaphor.”

“I knew that,” Thrawn assured him. “But it is still an unfortunate one.”

Without warning, Eli pushed Thrawn onto his back to straddle his waist. “How’s this for a metaphor?” he asked, leaning down until his hair tickled Thrawn's forehead. “I was, am, and always will be madly...” Eli kissed Thrawn’s nose…

“…desperately,” his left cheek…

“…helplessly,” his right…

“…utterly,” his forehead…

“…in love with you,” he finished, pressing a tender kiss to Thrawn’s lips.

Thrawn parted his lips as he pulled Eli flush to his chest, tangling one hand in brown hair, and pulling him closer with the other.

They kissed one another into oblivion until each man could taste only themselves in the other’s mouth.

Every mischievous nip of teeth, every desperate tug on hair, every hungry nibble was met with a gentle lathing of tongues, both apology and promise.

Each deeper kiss was punctuated with a lingering, tender touch of lips on lips.

Each questioning exploration of hands met with a moan of affirmation.

With a gentle nudge from Thrawn’s hands on his shoulders, Eli pulled back, his face flushed and breathless, lips kiss-swollen and shining. 

Thrawn took a moment to imprint the image of Eli’s face at that moment, knowing such things could be just as fleeting as anything else, but wanting to savor it in the present all the same.

Thrawn pushed a stray lock of brown hair behind his lover's ear. “Eli, I—“

Eli swallowed his words of love with another deep kiss before pressing their foreheads together, his words fluttering against Thrawn’s lips like the chastest of kisses as he whispered, “ _I know._ ”

_The End._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> * Italicized text of this section taken straight from the Thrawn novel by Timothy Zahn (not that other Thrawn novel by Mirror-Mirror Timothy Zahn). 
> 
> A wee afterword:  
> As I said in the beginning, I struggle with memory issues myself (though not in the same way/extent presented here). For weeks I agonized over whether to make Thrawn’s memories return completely or not. I decided I didn’t want Thrawn to just “be fixed” because I will probably never “be fixed” and the people in Eli’s position will probably not have anything “fixed” either. Sometimes it’s nice to read a “fixed it” fic like that, but that wasn’t the story I really wanted to tell this time.  
> So, in the end, I made it sort of ambiguous.  
> It is possible that Thrawn’s returned memories (all Eli-centric memories) are only temporary, in which case he’ll remember telling Eli about them, but not remember experiencing them.  
> It is also possible that he will be able to hold on to those memories, and perhaps more memories will slowly return as well.  
> But either way, they are both ridiculously in love with one another. Neither fully understands why, but it's fine.  
> Because love, like memory, is more than just the things you can think in any given moment.  
> Or that’s Thrawn’s theory, anyway. 
> 
> Thank you, everyone who read, kudos'd, and commented! This was a tough one for me to write, but y'all made it worth it.


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